


Flinch

by AETXL



Series: Flinch [1]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Give Elsa A Girlfriend (Disney), LGBTQ, Low key mature, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, angst and explicit sections will be marked, because these two stoics are a pain to write, everyone's a little bit bi, mostly Teen honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 92,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24856786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AETXL/pseuds/AETXL
Summary: Honeymaren chuckles, it’s just so cute. “Whatever suits you. Silk and drowning.” A foot kicks her in the stomach. A thin layer of frost—the exact size and shape of Elsa’s foot—appears on it. “Hey!” With that, Maren shimmies off her pants and pulls off her gákti and its accompanying dark green shirt with haste, leaving her in her undergarments. She leaps onto the bed, chasing after Elsa’s squeals. They wrestle through the blankets as Honeymaren fights to tickle her.---Do you enjoy a painfully slow burn? Because writing these two stoics together damn near killed me. I love them but I hate them.Picks up at the end of Frozen 2. EDIT: COMPLETE..There will be warnings and summaries where angst or sex occurs. I did lots of reading on Sami culture, and it ain't perfect but that is the focus of the story. A chapter just listing sources at the end
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (minor), Elsa & Honeymaren (Disney), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Series: Flinch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894195
Comments: 208
Kudos: 360





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Starts mid-Frozen 2 from Honeymaren's perspective  
> Expect switching from her and Elsa's POV throughout, but overall this is Honeymaren's story.

**Prologue**

**—Honeymaren—**

_Honeymaren heard a shift in the wind. She signaled to her brother, Ryder, to stop moving. He looked up the hill and through the trees at her. “What is it?” he asked quietly. Her eyes wandered, unseeing, as she listened._

_“I’m not sure. But go get Yelena—quietly.”_

_Ryder’s eyes widened, but he didn’t question Honeymaren’s determined look. As he ran downhill, Honeymaren climbed the hill stealthily. She shot up a tree just before the summit, and from its canopy she looked across the trees, through the mist, toward the Gate. Sure enough, the mist was moving oddly. Extremely oddly._

_Was that a… a tunnel of wind?_

_With yelling coming out of it. Definitely not good._

_“Honeymaren!” An urgent whisper rose to her. Looking down, Honeymaren made eye-contact with Yelena, leader of the Northuldra tribe trapped in the Forest of Mists, with Ryder at her side. “What is it?”_

_Trusting herself, Honeymaren let go of the branches and dropped down through several layers of autumn leaves of the birch tree. From a closer branch, she trusted the others to hear her._

_“I’m not sure, but the wind spirit’s up to something near the Gate.”_

_“That’s not that unusual,” Yelena countered._

_“I heard strangers’ voices,” Honeymaren insisted, motioning south. “The wind’s attacking them.”_

_“Impossible!” Yelena gasped._

_In short order, the majority of the tribe’s adults had assembled as a hunting party, almost everyone carrying walking staffs, prepared to fight. Honeymaren leapt from tree to tree with her own staff, trying her best to ignore the sounds of reindeer and focus on the place where she heard the voices—human voices! That and reindeer behind her, dependably following the humans that had guarded them all their lives, well outside of what elders told her was “usual” for their reindeer before the mist. Hopefully, they’d stay quiet, too._

_She gasped. An icy frost cascaded outward from the point she was climbing toward, rolling over her. So cold, she could see her breath as it escaped from her chest._

What was that!? _As she moved forward, Honeymaren could see two women below her. She struggled to comprehend what they were looking at… standing up among the autumn leaves, some kind of statue that glistened like snow. Another stranger, a man, approached the two women, followed by—_ is that a reindeer?!— _carrying yet another snow sculpture._

You can do this, you can do this, _Honeymaren told herself_. _Her tribe, the Northuldra, were a peaceful people. Unlike the Soldiers of the mysterious tribe Arendelle, none of her people were trained to fight. But she knew how to hunt and confront and kill and even run from men and spirits._

_“This girl…”_

_“She’s Northuldra!” the blond man said._

_Without hesitation, Honeymaren blew her horn, signaling the tribe. She jumped lower, further forward, toward the strangers._

_One of the women below grabbed a sword from an ice sculpture as they backed away from the warning sounds asserted by the Northuldra. But Ryder—it had to be him—stepped on a branch. The stranger with red-brown hair swung forward with the sword. Honeymaren growled from above. In an instant, she dropped to the ground ahead of Ryder and her tribe’s people, closest to the strangers, and swung her staff up to her face._

_“Lower your weapon.”_

Clang, clang! _“Then you lower yours!”_

_Honeymaren remained steady; she knew her mentor had circled ahead. Yelena dropped just in front of their captain, Mattias, and confronted him. A tall woman with blue eyes like Ryder’s and ice blonde hair glared back at Honeymaren. Time seemed to stop. While she had never imagined anyone that looked like any of these strangers, despite having seen Mattias’s soldiers before, she felt her skin bristle as the blue eyes glared back._

_“Get the sword!” an Arendellian soldier shouted._

_She rushed forward, but Honeymaren abruptly found herself falling. From the ground, sliding back on her rump, Honeymaren realized she was on top of a small field of ice that wasn’t there just a moment before._

What the fuck?

 _Standing up in anger, her staff flung away from her, Honeymaren looked back again and was shocked to see the blue-eyed woman’s hands up, a floating frost surrounding her hands, staring right back at her. Then, she realized one of the snow statues was moving and talking._ What—the—fuck?!

_\---_

_“Why would nature reward a person of Arendelle with magic?” Yelena asked incredulously as she walked away from Mattias, in front of Honeymaren and Ryder. She knows it’s an action meant to guard them, but Honeymaren watches the queen of the soldiers. The conversation continues. Although Honeymaren listens, she diverts her attention toward her. She had never heard of a spirit of ice and snow…_

_“We only trust nature!” Yelena implored to the queen. “When nature speaks—”_

_A tree just behind the strangers sprung to light—her heart clenched at the sight of the unusual flame that could only be—_

_“Fire spirit!”_

_Honeymaren started running as the purple flames flew, wet leaves and trees be damned. But she pulled up when her brother beside her did, at her shoulder. Looking back, she saw him struggling to wrangle his reindeer while the others had skillfully guided theirs away from the flames._

_“That’s a dead end!” Ryder shouted._

_The blond man jumped upon his reindeer and raced after Ryder’s reindeer just as Honeymaren grabbed her brother’s arm._

_“Ah!”_

_“Run!” Honeymaren shouts at him. It took everything she had to tell him to leave his reindeer in the fire with hope tied to some Arendellian._ Lives before livelihood. _As she dragged him away from the fire spirit’s wrath, she saw the red-haired maiden run after her own sister. Were it not for the smoke, Honeymaren would have gasped at the strange déjà vu._

 _Although they ran downhill, they diverted from their homes—_ lavvus _and small_ goahtis _—to keep the soldiers away. Or so Honeymaren thought before realizing the groups were all intermingled. Even during previous attacks by the vengeful fire spirit, soldiers had never run away alongside the Northuldra. Yet as suddenly as the fire had started, Honeymaren could hear it sizzle and die down. Letting go of Ryder, she paused to listen… and took off toward what fire she could hear. Everyone else followed along behind. Along the way, Ryder caught up and Yelena led ahead of her, if slower. Respectfully, she slowed her pace behind her leader until they were all walking past her peoples’ homes toward…_

_The blue-eyed woman had stopped in front of a rock, her frost gone and replaced by plain, unguarded hands. She kneeled down, close. Flame danced so slightly in her hands, and from afar Honeymaren couldn’t help but peek up over her shoulder as she kneeled, occasionally sharing glances with Ryder. Suddenly, she stood and a little salamander, encouraged by a friendly breeze, leapt from her hands. To herself, Honeymaren gasped, knowing surely this was the elemental spirits as they used to be, when they loved her people._

_With a glance, she realized she was holding her hands together awkwardly, anxiously. Then it occurred to her, she had dropped her staff back where the fire started, when they’d all slipped on ice. It had probably burned up!_

_“You don’t want me to follow you into fire?! Then you don’t run into fire!”_

_Honeymaren, her hands still clasped together oddly, looked up at the two strangers—Elsa and Anna, she reminded herself—arguing. With a huff, she reminded herself to pay better attention like Yelena and Ryder. Wait, Ryder? He walked toward the women! Why—?_

That scarf!!

_Just at Ryder’s heel, Honeymaren jogged up, looking at the beautiful scarf that Elsa had wrapped around Anna’s shoulders._

_“That’s a Northuldra scarf!” Ryder observed, eyes alight._

_“What?”_

_“This is from one of our oldest families!” Honeymaren said, gasping even as she said it, seeking Elsa’s blue eyes._

_“It was our mother’s…?” Anna said, also looking to Elsa. She yanked Anna’s arm, running back uphill. And everyone, Honeymaren included, followed as fast as they could run._

\---

_During the_ joik _, Honeymaren kept her eyes open just long enough for Yelena to look at her and nod. Then she looked up at Elsa. She couldn’t handle it. It was too much to joik-sing and hold her eyes open, feeling the energy flow through her people into Yelena and then into the sisters. But when the joik ended, she dared to open her eyes. Immediately her eyes caught with Elsa’s—too much. It was too much power. It was too intense a look. It shook Honeymaren her whole body through, and she couldn’t shake and do her duty. Yelena expected her to be strong, confident, even from behind her back_. _So, she looked at Anna instead while Yelena spoke: “We are the people of the Sun.”_

_“I promise you: I will free this forest,” the queen Elsa said to Yelena, and then to Mattias, “and restore Arendelle.”_

_“That’s a pretty big promise, Elsa,” Anna said. Honeymaren couldn’t agree more. Just an hour ago they were staring each other down—and she_ knew _she saw some kind of fear behind those daring blue eyes. She looked for Ryder, but he was busy shaking Kristoff’s hand; she watched her tribe walk downhill towards their homes and fires, surprised to see them speaking with the soldiers who followed suit._

_Still clinging her own hand anxiously, she watched the ice woman Elsa._

_“I heard the voice again,” Elsa said. “We need to go north.”_

_“But the Earth Giants now roam the north at night!” Honeymaren said, stepping forward from Yelena’s side. Her stomach filled with knots. She watched Elsa’s face briefly, anxious for the stranger. To stay? To remain safe? To learn from her anything of the world outside? As if reading Honeymaren’s usually stoic face, Yelena stepped forward to guide the sisters._

_“You can leave in the morning,” she said, grabbing Elsa gently. Honeymaren found herself side by side with Anna, whose hair reminded her of tribesmen’s stories, leaned in._

_“I’m Honeymaren,” she said, yanking on her own hand uncomfortably. Again, unable to look._

_“Honeymaren? We’ll do all we can!”_

That’s a weird way to say hello.

\---

_Honeymaren had followed a little baby reindeer over to the campfire where Elsa had sequestered herself from others. She giggled, watching the reindeer’s curiosity rise as they passed by the children and the living snow creature. Moving on, she stood beside this blonde woman, holding her_ kuksa _of tea ahead of her._

_“I’m Honeymaren,” she said, smiling tentatively. She sat at the fire, not too close._

_“Elsa.” She smiled back ever so slightly, but a warmth lit up her eyes. Perhaps that was the fire reflecting in them…_

_The little reindeer sidled up on Elsa’s other side, nuzzling up to her thigh. A pang of an unknown kind struck Honeymaren. She pondered the feeling a moment, sipping her tea, but let her curiosity return to the stranger. “Tell me about the voice. What makes you so sure they have the answers?”_

_“Because they speak to a part of me that no one’s ever been able to reach,” Elsa responded immediately, yet quietly._

_“What part is that?”_

_“The part of me that’s magic.”_

Magic _, Honeymaren thought. That wasn’t exactly how she’d been taught to think of such things. She took a sip from her wooden mug—the kuksa. Glancing at the shawl across Elsa’s lap, clearly aged, Honeymaren said, “I want to show you something.” She set aside her kuksa, briefly yanked on her own fingers. “May I?” she asked, palm up. This little motion she remembered from her mother’s lessons of hospitality. Palm up for a friend, palm down for a rival._

 _Elsa agreed. She moved closer and lifted the mother’s scarf, preserved with detail that Honeymaren could cry over._ How long, _she wondered,_ had this shawl been handed down before it even reached their mother?

_“You know Air, Water, Fire, and Earth.”_

_“Yes?”_

_“But look! There’s a fifth spirit!” Honeymaren said, pointing at the center of the priceless sewing work. She looked up at Elsa. “Said to be a bridge between us and the magic of nature!”_

_“A fifth spirit?” Elsa gasped with a smile, looking away._

_Determined, she continued. “Some say they heard it call out the day the forest fell.”_

_“My father heard it!” Elsa said. Her face sought Honeymaren’s eyes in a way she fundamentally did not expect to rock her. “Do you think that’s who’s calling me?”_

_She looked so hopeful. Honeymaren had thought perhaps this Elsa would see herself as being… but better not to teach what isn’t known. “Maybe,” Honeymaren said, unable to repress a smirk. She could feel her body relax under Elsa’s gaze now that they were really speaking. “Alas,” she shrugged, “only Athohallen knows.”_

_“Athohallen,” Elsa sighed. Then she surprised Honeymaren by singing:_ “Dive down deep into her sound.”

 _Honeymaren joined, but closed her eyes._ “But not too far,” _they sang together,_ “or you’ll be drowned!” _Watching Elsa sing felt like too much divine power._

\---

_Honeymaren told Elsa to hide as she darted behind a lavvu. But when she looked away from where the Earth giants had passed, back to where their fire had been glowing, Elsa was gone. So was Anna. Looking round, Honeymaren saw that everyone gathered looked round, counting their numbers. The soldiers gathered together as well. Mattias caught her eye. His jaw set, he offered a slight nod before leading his soldiers away from the Northuldra. Maren kept looking._

_“Yelena!” she called, walking up to her leader._

_“Calm down,” Yelena barked._

_Pulling back her shoulders slightly, Honeymaren furrowed her brow. “I am calm.”_

_With a little sigh, Yelena put up an open palm. “I know. They left. I’m sure they’re fine. But no one’s spotted Ryder.”_

_Honeymaren’s stomach dropped. “Ryder’s missing?”_

_With a nod, Yelena directed Honeymaren’s gaze downhill. “And the blond fellow. Notice the reindeer are gone too? I think I know what happened. I’m going to go get them. Get everyone to bed, would you? We have to move the reindeer to the lichen meadows tomorrow.”_

_“Of course.” They separated, Yelena walking after the reindeer tracks and Honeymaren visiting each home and reassuring her community. Direction settled her panic, leaving Honeymaren enough room in her chest to acknowledge a sense of disappointment. As she readied herself for some sleep, she noticed how heavy her body felt. The night had been so exciting, so hopeful, but what now? With deep breaths, she finally settled into her bed of furs and handwoven blankets, remembering the feeling of smirking confidently at Elsa._

_Later the next morning, Ryder followed Yelena’s steps into the clearing where the Northuldra had been packing up camp. The reindeer followed further behind, weaving through the trees toward their keepers._

_“Ryder!” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of his neck and pulling him close to hug. “Where in the mist have you been?” she demanded._

_“Oh… just off doing the worst thing ever,” he shrugged dejectedly._

_“Huh?” she asked, still holding his arms but stepping back._

_“Don’t ask,” Yelena said dryly as she passed by them, holding her hands behind her back. Looking back, she said, “Ryder, go get packing.” He nodded and stepped away. Honeymaren jogged up to Yelena’s side._

_“What happened?”_

_With a sigh, Yelena looked at the leaves on the forest floor. “Don’t ask. Don’t rush anybody though. The ah… Kristoff will catch up with us soon enough.”_

Oh.

\---

_With a yawn, Honeymaren stretched out from under her blankets. She could hear the beginnings of the day: woodland creatures starting to chirp and shift. The sun had not quite started to rise, but Honeymaren could feel a slight heat and see a slight light crossing the air of her and Ryder’s shared home. Quickly, she dressed and stepped outside. The lichen meadows, where the Northuldra now camped, hardly counted as a meadow. Or so the elders told her. Here, the trees were simply less tightly packed, and sunlight could reach the ground more easily so that lichen could grow, even during winter. A real meadow would grow far more lichen. Their reindeer could truly flourish if they weren’t all trapped in this forest._

_Still, the light cutting through the mist made for a lovely autumn morning._

_Until a distant cry. Honeymaren turned, looking uncertainly through the trees. She wasn’t sure what she heard, or if she’d even heard it. But something in her crumbled at the anguish. Yes, utter anguish, carried down to her ears by the wind._

Never be the same again…?

_No one else among other early risers seemed to hear it. Even Kristoff, asleep beside his reindeer a way off from the Northuldra, remained settled. But her heart sunk into her stomach._

_Behind her, Ryder came out into the daylight. “Hey, good morning.”_

_“Hey,” she replied quietly._

_“You okay?” Her pause gave Ryder doubt. He laid a hand on her shoulder._

_“Yeah.” Her eyes darted to his. “Everything’s fine.”_

_“You don’t look fine.”_

_“You don’t look dressed.”_

_The siblings teased each other back and forth. Ryder finally went back in to get more clothes on, and Honeymaren went about her morning activities. She started a fire for folks to use for starting the day, then went to check on the reindeer. Occasionally she would look over at Kristoff, the poor guy, who slowly rose from sleep and rode his reindeer away. He probably needed space… she could only imagine what facing a future in the mist felt like after living a life outside of it._

_But morning light was still young when Honeymaren—and everyone else—definitely heard something disturbing: clanging metal. The Arendellian soldiers!_

_Everyone tensed, looking around for signs of the five soldiers. Nothing. Ryder looked up at Honeymaren._

_“They’re too far away to be challenging us,” she said, answering his unspoken question._

_“You don’t think…?”_

_The ground shook with the sound of a large, gravelly crack. Without a second thought, Honeymaren started running as fast as she could toward the sound. She could hear others following her, but she focused on the impossible sound getting louder and louder. Climbing up a tree, she saw enormous boulders smashed into the outcropping of rock that made one end of the dam._

_“The dam!” she gasped. It was crumbling, spitting water, and another boulder flew overhead, landing with a terrible crunch on the far end._

There’s someone on the dam! _she realized, horrified as she watched Mattias running toward the collapsing brickwork. From further north, Kristoff came running up behind the soldiers, catching up to Mattias. Reddish brown hair caught Honeymaren’s eye. “No!” she shouted, and she too rushed toward the danger, expertly leaping from tree to tree. Her eyes were transfixed, watching the impossibly small figure of Anna jump—_

No no no!

_But just as Honeymaren turned past one of the boulders to the end of the dam, she saw Mattias and Kristoff pull the woman up onto safe ground. Anna collapsed, bawling, into Kristoff’s relieved arms. Slowing to a jog, Honeymaren approached while covering her ears to the sound of water pounding down on rock and into the fjord._

_By the time the water had finally passed, they had all moved to safer ground, and the Northuldra had all gathered nearby._

_“Anna,” Kristoff cried, still holding her tight._

_“It had to be done,” she whimpered into his embrace._

_Honeymaren cautiously stepped up, offering a hand on Anna’s shoulder. “What happened to the others?” she asked tentatively. Anna’s eyes caught Honeymaren’s and tears welled up in them both. She shook her head no and pressed herself further into Kristoff’s chest. Stepping back, Honeymaren retracted her comforting hand and placed it on her own heart, checking whether it had stopped in that moment._

_Light was building around them. One by one, everyone in the forest started walking to the Gate, where the four great spirits’ stones stood at the southeastern edge of the forest. As they arrived, the mist fully lifted._

_A blue that could not be believed surrounded them, and Honeymaren couldn’t help but wonder at such a fitting comfort given the loss of the blue-eyed Elsa._

_When she turned away from the delightful reindeer to look for her new tribesman, however, Anna was nowhere to be found. Yelena was also looking. They both looked at each other quizzically._

_The ground shook beneath them. Looking up, they saw that alongside them stood earth giants! How had they have come so quietly?! And they were bending down over the edge of a slight cliff, near the fjord. Together, the two women jogged over and looked over the edge._

_“Oh my stars!” Yelena gasped, clutching at her chest._

_Elsa stood barefoot on the little beach below beside the little snow creature named Olaf. Suddenly, Kristoff was getting down on his knees in front of Anna and pulled something out from his shirt._

_“They’re all alive!” Honeymaren exclaimed with a giddy smile, grabbing Yelena’s closest wrist and shoulder and shaking her a little. She turned back to see the group of strangers climbing up the rocky edge toward them._

_“Is that Elsa? She looks different.”_

_“Good different!” Honeymaren said. She could feel Yelena smirking at her. The two Northuldra women reached their hands out, helping the relieved family up on their last steps._

_Elsa took Honeymaren’s hand with a smile. “Thank you!”_

_“Thank you! You did this?”_

_With a chuckle, Elsa explained, “Actually, Anna did. I just helped a little.” With a look to her other side, the shimmering Elsa took Yelena’s hand, too. It was only then that Honeymaren realized Elsa hadn’t let go of her hand at all. “Athohallen,” Elsa said, “is beautiful.”_

This is beautiful, _Honeymaren thought to herself._

_The fire spirit jumped into Elsa’s hands suddenly, rolling round. Now she could almost feel Elsa’s hands getting colder, just for his pleasure._

_“You know,” she found herself saying, not sure exactly what pushed her to speak. “You belong up here.” Elsa looked into her eyes and blinked slowly with a smile. Honeymaren’s guts squirmed and her skin quivered, exhilarated by Elsa’s presence._ Please stay…


	2. Chapter 1—Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings, not mature yet

**—Chapter 1—Awake—**

**– Elsa –**

“What do you think, Kristoff?” Elsa asks. He glances at her while they sit in his heavily laden cart, Sven pulling them forward.

“About what?”

“About the invitation. Do you think they’ll actually come?”

“I dunno,” he sighs. “But I’m sure the Northuldra will appreciate the gesture.” Elsa nods in agreement despite not being so sure herself, pulling her legs up so her chin could rest on her knees. “Besides,” Kristoff says, gently nudging her shoulder with his elbow. “You’re bringing gifts. Who turns down a gift? Or attacks someone who brings gifts?” He winks.

Elsa smiles at him knowingly. The irony of the dam has not worn off yet. She wonders how Anna is faring with informing Arendelle’s press of the whole, ugly past. _I couldn’t do it_ , she thinks to herself. Their grandfather had a positive reputation in their history books previous to the truth getting out. Sure, she could stand up there and say the words, but eventually that vice would collapse her, and she’d break—or worse, explode. Elsa relishes the idea of Anna with all her spitfire strength tackling this problem head on now instead. Since Elsa returned from Athohallen, her little sister acts differently. More assured, less concerned about Elsa’s opinion, more honest, but still protective.

 _She’s perfect for leading Arendelle through this._ Elsa feels so much more comfortable in her own body now, as though a tight cord holding her has finally been cut off. What a relief to have officially abdicated. What a joy to be returning north after a long two weeks since freeing the forest.

“Hey look!” Kristoff says, pointing. “Reindeer scat!” Elsa pulls a face at her future brother-in-law. “It means we’re nearby! Don’t look at me like that.”

Even Sven groans.

“Thanks for the update,” Elsa chuckles. Sure enough, he’s right. Their cart rounds a corner on the old dirt road, now covered in autumn leaves that could finally be blown out of the forest. And out on the great space that had once spanned between them and the mist, the Northuldra now gather. Reindeer frolic on the plain. People cook around purplish fires and around the reindeer in the distance. Children appear to play with the wind spirit, Gale. “We’re here!”

“We sure are,” Kristoff agrees. “Come on Sven!”

With that, they turn off the road and gallop down toward their friends.

Elsa smiles, relaxing fully for the first time since she left.

Several Northuldra break off from what they are doing and run up to greet the sled. Some grab Sven to unhitch him, Ryder reaches out to shake Kristoff’s hand, and the children run up to Elsa giggling. Friendly faces surround them in short order. Finally, Yelena, with Honeymaren trotting behind her, push through the crowd.

“Welcome home!”

“Thank you,” Elsa beams down at Yelena, returning a child to the ground.

“Of course. I’m glad you returned.”

 _Huh,_ Elsa ponders. _Did they think I might not?_

“Thank you for the letters you sent with, ah, ‘Gale.’ Unfortunately none of us could read them.”

“Oh!” Elsa laughs at herself. “Of course, I apologize for the mistake.”

“Nonsense. Are either of you hungry?”

“Yes!” Kristoff says as Sven, who sniffs forcefully at Ryder’s pockets.

“We should unload the sled first, though,” Elsa says.

“Don’t tell me it’s full of…” Yelena holds her breath, clearly trying not to judge, “dresses? Or heavy furniture?” Although she didn’t mean to be funny, several Northuldra folks chuckle, and Honeymaren elbows her leader with a smirk.

“Oh no!” Elsa smiles. “This is mostly gifts!”

“Gifts?” Yelena’s face and body soften, so much so that Honeymaren lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. Elsa squirms a little, anxious but happy. Kristoff, followed shortly by Ryder and some of the others, starts pulling thickly woven bags off the sled and unties covered boxes.

“Yes,” Elsa replies, glancing up at Honeymaren. “Anna and I struggled to find any records of trade between Arendelle and Northuldra prior to the forest’s fall. We couldn’t find much of anything, actually, regarding Northuldra, but Anna’s a very determined woman.”

“Very determined,” Kristoff agrees.

“I can imagine,” Yelena says simply.

“Anyway,” Elsa continues, still grasping at herself nervously. Looking over at Honeymaren, she realizes that she was also clasping her own hands awkwardly. Strangely reassured, she continues, “Since we’re not entirely sure what you would enjoy, and since it’s Arendelle’s responsibility to ensure that Northuldra really is free, we decided to bring all sorts of things that Arendelle has to share.” She chuckles as Sven nuzzles up to Ryder, who peeks inside one of the large bags.

“What is this?”

“That’s rye,” Kristoff tells him. “We thought maybe you could grow some, or just eat it if growing grain’s not your thing. But it’s hardy!”

“And what’s this?” another young man asks, gesturing at a different bag.

Yelena gasps, “Is that coffee?!” Elsa nods, a little taken aback. Yelena steps up to the bag in wonder. “This I do remember,” she says. “This we definitely traded. We even had rituals using coffee.”

Kristoff nudges Elsa, who giggles happily. Honeymaren smirks at her while gently shaking Yelena’s shoulder in support. Elsa resists hiding her face. She feels hot and flustered, but she’s not sure why.

“Oh! There’s something else!” she recalls.

“No,” Yelena holds up a palm, “No, stop. We’re going to get you all unpacked, and we’re all going to eat together. The sun will retire soon and so shall we. Come now, Elsa, you can tell us more over dinner.” She wraps a sturdy arm up around Elsa’s shoulders and walks her away.

Much to Kristoff’s surprise, several others unpack the sled before he can participate much more. They bring snacks to Sven, and even guide the sled out of the middle of the plain. “You’re our guest, too,” Honeymaren says to him. “Go with Yelena. We’ll meet you there.”

“Uh, where is there?”

“Oh!” Ryder interjects, “we’ve built a proper community _goahti_ now, big enough for everybody! It’s not quite done yet, but it’s not quite winter yet either. Wait ‘til you see it!”

Elsa looks back at the three of them talking and smiles. It feels like a family.

\---

_Ryder’s right_ , Elsa thinks. This goahti is enormous compared to the ones she had seen in the forest before. Pleasantly crowded, and no reindeers inside (despite Sven’s attempts). She takes another bite of smoked fish, knowing that reindeer likely meet a similar fate.

“Now then,” Yelena says, sitting cross-legged next to Elsa. “Tell me the something else. What was the catch?”

Elsa swallows nervously. Kristoff chuckles. “It is a bit of a catch.”

She glares at him. “Only a little one. It’s optional!”

“Optional?” Yelena asks incredulously.

Elsa feels her face turn hot again and catches Honeymaren’s eye, sitting across from her on the floor and delicately placing fish into her mouth. Why does that make her shiver? With a deep breath, Elsa reminds herself that she doesn’t have to control this situation, and that’s okay. “Well, it’s an invitation.”

“To what?”

“Anna’s coronation,” Elsa finishes. Yelena looks surprised. She forces herself to stop worrying at her own fingers and use her hands while speaking with the Northuldra leader. To _her_ leader. “Like with the gifts, Anna believes the dam coming down was just the beginning of freeing the forest. So do I. When I was coronated, we invited allies, dignitaries and monarchs, from across the world to witness. And we want the Northuldra to join Arendelle during Anna’s coronation now that she’s taking my place. She’s Northuldra, too.”

“And so are you.”

Elsa smiles at Honeymaren’s interjection. She seems pleased. Or at least she was smirking at Elsa again. Although the goahti still resonates with community hubbub, enough people heard Elsa speak such that the general clamor had lowered. Yelena thinks for a moment.

“Forgive me, Elsa. My time as a leader never involved having allies. Thank you,” Yelena sighs. “I’m just not sure we can do all that. It’s a long journey for a lot of us. Winter’s on its way, there’s so much to prepare…” Feeling herself sink into her seat, Elsa nods respectfully. Seeing this, Yelena clears her throat. “What about sending a, uh, scout?”

“Uh, you mean like a representative?” Kristoff asks.

“Sure, a … rep person thing.”

“Oh!” Elsa smiles, “Yes, that would be fine! Most people who came to my coronation were there on someone else’s behalf.”

“Wait, is that when you iced people over?” Ryder asks. Elsa feels herself blush. Honeymaren threw something at her brother.

“More or less. But it wasn’t people, I froze the fjord and uh… all of Arendelle,” she grimaces.

“And some of Northuldra territory,” Kristoff adds.

“Which is not going to happen again!”

Yelena laughs, which surprises everyone. “That’s a shame! That’s something I’d like to see! Ha!” With another chuckle, Yelena continues. “All right, Elsa. I can send representatives to your sister’s coronation. It’s surely soon though, right? I can’t spare anyone for too long with winter on the way.”

“Plans are being finished as we speak,” Elsa assures her. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to head back as soon as possible to help prepare. Anna will be so happy!” _And then I can really come back home_ , Elsa thinks to herself, stealing a look around at the faces of her new community.

“Thank you so much, Yelena,” Kristoff adds.

Suddenly, from beneath their feet a blue salamander leaps out from the blankets and onto Elsa’s lap. “Oh! Hello little friend!” The fire spirit, Bruni, climbs up to her shoulder and nuzzles against her. His presence livens up the fire at the center of the goahti. With renewed warmth, the tribe starts to talk among themselves cheerfully again.

“Hm, looks like we have some spots to patch on this goahti,” Yelena quips. “I won’t be able to make the trip I’m afraid. These two though,” she motions to Ryder and Honeymaren, who sit at sudden attention, “I know for a fact that they’re young enough to travel and don’t have children of their own to fret over. They’ll do.”

“Really, Yelena?” Ryder asks excitedly. “Even me?”

“Yes, you. And your sister. You’ll leave in the morning.”

“That soon?” Honeymaren asks. “I thought we could get something set up for Elsa to live in, get her settled.”

Yelena yawns and slowly stands, speaking as she does. “All in due time. Now then, I think it is time we all got some sleep. Do you two have room for our guests tonight before your journey? Or shall I guilt some child’s parents into hosting them?”

“Oh!” Honeymaren jumps. She stands up quickly and gestures toward the exit with her palm facing Elsa and Kristoff. “It would be our honor, of course!”

With that, dinner concludes with full bellies and cheerful voices. Once outside, Sven leaps over to Kristoff, his tongue covered in lichen. Ryder laughs at Kristoff’s predicament while Elsa follows Honeymaren closely toward the scattered smaller buildings. “This way,” Honeymaren instructs, offering Elsa a hand. She looks at her hand, unsure if Honeymaren means for her to offer her own in return. “Oh!” Bruni scampers into Honeymaren’s hand. “He’s hot!” she says, switching him from hand to hand tentatively.

“Yes,” Elsa chuckles, relieving her guide of the lizard, hot as a burning coal. The little sizzling sound he makes as he cools off delights her. Smiling, Honeymaren turns back to leading the way toward a smaller goahti.

“I have a question for you, Honeymaren.”

“Sure. And uh, you can call me Maren if you like.”

Did her face redden when she said that? Nightfall makes it hard to tell. “Does anyone else call you that?”

“Sometimes. Ryder does.”

“Well then, Maren, my question is about the song the Northuldra sang to us.”

“The song?”

“From when Anna and I first found out about our mother being Northuldra,” Elsa explains, “And again when we arrived for dinner tonight. What do the words mean?”

“Oh! Oh no, that’s a _joik_.”

Elsa frowns slightly. “A yolk?”

Maren smiles, shaking her head. “No no, a joik. It’s not a song really, or at least they aren’t actual words. A song is _about_ something, but you _joik_ something.”

“I don’t understand,” Elsa says, letting Bruni leap from her hands and run up toward the goahti ahead of them. He stops occasionally to see if the humans had caught up to him. Impatient, he darts into the home and a fire jumps to life inside. “Is that safe?!”

“Oh yeah,” Maren assures her. “Goahtis have fire pits inside. The fire spirit does that for all of us now. First time he’s spent the night with Ryder and me though.” She pulls back the leather covering their portal inside for Elsa.

“Thank you.” Stepping inside, she finds herself surrounded on all sides by blankets and pelts. At the center, a cheerful purple fire crackles, surrounded by large stones. Bruni dozes on the warm rocks. Although the space is a little cramped as Ryder and Kristoff follow her inside, it’s pleasant. Various tools and prizes hang from the wooden beams that rise above them—antlers and carvings and the like—but even Kristoff has plenty of headspace. “This is lovely!”

“Isn’t it great!” Ryder exclaims, falling back on a soft bed. “And we don’t have to move it every day to avoid angry spirits! When winter comes, Yelena says we’ll be able to stay in this area the whole season! And when it gets warm, she says we’ll follow the reindeer to a proper mountain meadow north of here! It’s so great!”

Kristoff laughs, putting down his and Elsa’s packs. As the boys start setting up some space for the guests to sleep, Elsa returns her attention to Maren, who sits down at the edge of her bed to watch Bruni in wonder.

“You were explaining the joik?”

Maren looked up at Elsa. “Right.”

She shivers again under the gaze of brown eyes shimmering in the purple firelight. Something in her chest tightens. _What is that about??_

“We’ll teach it to you. Not tonight though. Sounds like we have a big day tomorrow. But anyway, that joik was of our people—the people of the sun. So, the joik is a vocal—hmmm—carving, or drawing, of something. You don’t joik about your tribe, you joik the tribe.”

Kristoff and Elsa exchange confused glances.

“And the sounds aren’t words, they’re just feelings.”

“Feelings?”

“Yes. The elders said our tribe created this joik because they were determined that we would see the sun again. When the forest fell, there were—what was that word Kristoff used?”

“Representatives,” Kristoff says, using a pot of water warmed by the fire to wash his face.

“Yes, representatives from Northuldra tribes joining ours here that day. Trapped in the forest, they all came together to create a new tribe,” Honeymaren finishes.

“So, there’s more of… us?”

“Maybe,” Ryder replies. “It’s not really the best time of year to go looking though.”

“In any case,” Honeymaren continues, “That’s a joik. And now that you’re one of us, we’ll teach it to you.”

Elsa watches, wonder electrifying her mind as her host suddenly takes off her belt and _gákti_ —her traditional tunic. Ryder was also undressing without a shred of sheepishness. From the corner of her eye, she sees Kristoff avert his gaze to the ceiling.

“Should we give you some privacy?” Elsa gulps. The heat in the room suddenly felt blistering.

“Oh, uh, we just turn around when we change,” Ryder says simply. He looks at his sister with a shrug.

“Why don’t you two,” she said to the boys, “wait outside a moment. Elsa and I can change and then we’ll switch?”

“No no,” Kristoff insists. “Us first. I don’t want you two outside without your clothes on.”

Maren shrugs her shirt back on.

Outside, Elsa and Maren stand in awkward silence. A strong breeze wraps round Elsa, a small yet friendly cyclone. “Oh! Hello, Gale. I wondered when you’d say hello.”

Honeymaren laughs. Gale settles quickly, playing with Elsa’s hair, dragging it up above her head and briefly into the shape of antlers. Then she whips up, rising above them with a whistling sound. Elsa looks up after Gale. “Look!” she says to Maren. “The sky’s awake!”

Honeymaren looks up, freezes. “W-what is that?”

Elsa smiles, just like when Maren had told her she belonged out here the day Anna freed the forest. And just like that moment a few weeks ago, she feels something overwhelm her within, a strange rushing sensation. Although she still is uncertain what the feeling is exactly, Elsa knows she likes it.

“We call it the aurora borealis.” She reaches for Maren’s hand when Ryder’s head emerges from inside the goahti, his face suddenly between them.

“Your turn! Mare, what are you—whoa! Wha-oof!” Kristoff pushes him forward so he can get out, too. Together, they stare up at the sky’s changing colors.

“It’s beautiful!” Maren gasps. Elsa smiles, bewitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out coffee is a pretty big deal in Norway generally and with the Sami people


	3. Chapter 2—Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings beyond some adult language and implied stuff

**—Chapter 2—Journey—**

**– Honeymaren –**

Honeymaren wakes just before sunrise. Slowly in the dim light, she realizes a little salamander watches her, his tiny head angled, his wide tongue darting over his face. “Whoa!” she gasps, shooting up--“Ow!” …and hits her head against one of the nearby poles of her abode. Rubbing her head, she looks round the goahti. Ryder sleeps on, undisturbed. Kristoff sleeps on his stomach nearby, seemingly dead to the world. But Elsa is sitting against a wall. With her back to Honeymaren, she slowly crawls forward from under her warm bed’s covers to Elsa’s side. _Ah, also asleep._ “Huh.” Her blonde hair is ruffled, a pelt thrown around her shoulders. Bruni scuttles up beside Honeymaren, licks his eye again, and darts out, off to start his day doing whatever friendly fire spirits do.

As strangely sweet as Honeymaren finds Elsa like this, so vulnerable and human, she pokes the back of Elsa’s head. As gravity carries the sleeping beauty forward, slowly at first and then all at once, Elsa wakes and yips a tiny, "Shit!" She puts her hands out just before her nose would have met the ground. Ice shoots out of her fingers, a little pedestal underhand propping her up.

Honeymaren chuckles. “Is sleeping uncomfortably a preference of yours?” Elsa pushes herself back up, twisting away the ice with a smooth hand motion. She sleepily stares at her, and Honeymaren tries not to smile too much at her.

After a long pause, Elsa retorts, “No, it is not a preference of mine. Just a habit.” With that, she starts to feel around for something.

“Sounds like you don’t get much sleep then,” Honeymaren comments, leaning back on her hands. Elsa glances her way, eyes lingering; Honeymaren recalls that Elsa and Kristoff had been shy last night around changing clothes. Whereas she and Ryder both wear simple undergarments, their guests had clothes covering their whole bodies while sleeping. Her look makes Honeymaren consider her own exposed abdomen, arms, and legs. She wonders if she should blush under Elsa’s wavering, curious gaze.

“Mmm,” she finally nods, looking away. “I sometimes sleep.”

“Maybe while we travel to Arendelle?”

“Mhmm.” She continues moving her hand hodge-podge across the floor, seeking something.

“Can I help you find something?”

With a sigh, Elsa nods once more.

“I need to get dressed. I need my pack.”

“I thought you just…” Honeymaren motions around herself, wiggling her fingers. This time she does blush under Elsa’s gaze. “That’s what Kristoff said.”

She chuckles. “There’s a little bit of that,” Elsa agrees. “But it all has a base of actual fabric. And I still have to put it on and take it off physically.”

“Let’s see then.” After quick look round, Honeymaren spots the pack near the head of her own bed. Walking over to it, she squats down to inspect it. Some floral scent that Honeymaren can’t recognize wafts up at her from the bag—definitely Elsa. With a reassuring smile, she passes it to the owner. “There you go.”

“Got any coffee while you’re at it?” Elsa asks sheepishly.

“I do not,” Honeymaren replies. “And only Athohallen knows what coffee is, but not me. You can teach us how to make some.”

“Can’t make coffee ‘til I have coffee.”

Amused, Honeymaren steps behind Elsa. She clearly feels too sleepy to consciously watch Honeymaren dress, so why worry about offending her? Humming as she gets dressed, Ryder finally stirs. He'll get their guests up and ready, she's sure. In the meantime, Honeymaren has an old woman to bother. Stepping out into the cold morning, Honeymaren walks across the frosted grasses toward Yelena’s home.

“Come in,” her mentor calls as Honeymaren approaches. She opens the door, lifts the leather curtain, and enters to find a small fire already popping away happily.

“What’s that smell?” Honeymaren asks, noticing an old copper kettle above the fire.

A gleeful smile sits on Yelena’s face the likes of which she had never seen all her twenty-six years of life. Lifting the kettle and slowly pouring a black liquid into her _kuksa_ , Yelena replies: “Coffee.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m well aware,” Yelena says. “Want to try some?”

“Yes!” Honeymaren sits and accepts Yelena’s offered cup. “But you should really be offering this to Elsa, she was already asking me about coffee.”

“Ah yes,” Yelena says, feigning a spooky voice, “the Fifth spirit! Did she sleep?” She snorts out a chuckle at the look on Honeymaren’s face as she tries the coffee.

“Whoa,” Honeymaren squeezes out her throat, blinking rapidly as she attempts to put together what was happening on her palate. “Ah, no I think she did not. But I didn’t really either.”

“Naturally.” Yelena sips loudly on her drink. “Oh, I missed this.”

“It’s bitter, really bitter.”

“Perfect for bitter old women.”

Smirking, Honeymaren bites back. “You’re not old.”

“Old enough to know what you’re doing here interrupting my coffee.”

“You invited me in.”

“Yes, I would prefer to answer your questions privately instead of during all the fracas of seeing you off.” They pause in their banter, Yelena sipping on coffee, awaiting the words to rise out of Honeymaren.

“Why are you sending Ryder and I to Arendelle for this corm-a-tion?”

“Coronation.”

“Right.”

“Well, like I said yesterday,” Yelena groans, slowly standing up, “I’m old. And everyone else has kids that I’m not going to babysit while they travel.”

Honeymaren stands as well. “Not everyone else, there are plenty of people without kids.”

“Oh? Name ten—older than twenty.” 

“Yelena!” Honeymaren groans, her hands out in front of her, frustrated but pleading. “What are we supposed to even be doing? Why send us in the first place?”

“Honeymaren,” Yelena chides gently. She places her hand on Honeymaren’s shoulder, still nursing her kuksa of coffee. “You’re a smart person. Be polite and pay attention. No monarch of Arendelle invited Northuldra to such things in the past, either, so be on guard.”

“But they are Northuldra.”

“Your _hosts_ will be, certainly,” Yelena nods. Taking another sip of coffee, she continues, “But that doesn’t mean their people are. So again, go. Be observant. Keep Ryder out of trouble. And come back safely.” Honeymaren nods, thinking to herself that Yelena surely wants something more of her and her brother. “Now go get her and that Kristoff fellow. Tell them I made coffee. You and Ryder get some reindeer, we’re not making that poor Sven carry you all that way.”

\---

Sure enough, a fracas does ensue as Ryder and Honeymaren attempt to head out on their trip. Adults make way for the earth giants that come to see off Elsa, while the children of the tribe cling to the siblings, some crying, some screaming, some yanking on limbs and braids.

One braid.

Honeymaren’s braid. She worries briefly that perhaps Yelena gave that strange beverage to the children.

Finally, Elsa steps forward and starts lifting children off of her. “Okay, little ones, off we go.” But for every child she removes from Honeymaren’s leg or arm, another seems to take their place.

“Aww, but who will they scramble all over in the meantime?” Ryder snickers, climbing into the back of the cart while Kristoff checks the hitches of Sven and the other reindeer.

“Ignore him,” Honeymaren insists, struggling to stay upright under toddlers’ combined weight. Elsa does seem to ponder it though. With a gleam in her eye, she lifts her arm and waves at the retreating earth giants. They immediately sense her and look back. The smallest of the three, still enormous, returns. With the tribe’s attention caught, the spirit slowly sits and then lays down, careful not to touch any of the new homes or the reindeer. Sure enough, the children’s wonder turns to outrageous excitement. In a mass, they run to the earth spirit, screeching with delight, and start climbing in earnest. A gravelly sound echoes across the earth, as if the ground beneath their feet laughs with delight.

“Right,” Yelena says into the stunned silence of the adults, watching the scene unfold.

_Right,_ Honeymaren thinks. _Fifth spirit_.

Yelena looks down at Honeymaren’s hands and cleared her throat. Honeymaren followed her glance and separated her awkwardly folded hands. She turns, fisting the fabric of her shirt instead, and steps up into the cart beside Kristoff. Biting her lip, she looks ahead, but her thoughts jump around in the back of the sled with the other woman. And though she knows she has perhaps too many unexpected feelings jumping around inside herself, Honeymaren smiles and waves as they set off for Arendelle.

\---

Not until she wakes up does Honeymaren realize that she fell asleep. Most of the night before she laid on her bed, eyes on the ceiling, unsure of what to expect of a journey—the first time she would ever leave the Northuldra territory. Even when they left the forest, they always stayed nearby. Sitting up now, she looks out the back of Kristoff’s cart, and they are clearly somewhere new. The trees and vegetation differ from her home enormously. Far to the north, she can see a mountain taller than anything she’s ever imagined before. Sticking her head out the side of the cart, wind blasts her in the face. “Whoa!”

“THIS IS SO FAST, SVEN!” Kristoff shouts from nearby. She looks up. He and Ryder spur on the reindeer, seeing how fast they can go.

“Oh hey, you’re up!” Ryder shouts over the rushing sound, holding his hat tight. “You were falling asleep up here in the front, so Elsa had the wind spirit move you to the back. The spirit—”

“Gale!” Kristoff shouts.

“Right, Gale, thought that was funny I guess?” Ryder shrugs, still shouting. “Anyway, I just dragged you back there and took your seat.”

Honeymaren just nods. The nap fuzziness lingers. She looks to her side and gasps. Elsa is sleeping just beside her. What’s more, she’s wearing something different than when they left. Some kind of dress that looked nothing like the light blues and white she’s seen Elsa wear before. And boots!

_Could’ve sworn she didn’t have shoes…_

“How long was I asleep?”

“Oh,” Kristoff shouts, watching her crawl up toward them. “Not _that_ long. We’re just going to take A WHOLE DAY off our travel time!” he replies, excited. “We’ll be back home late tonight!”

“Arendelle, here we come!” Ryder whoops, staring at the cloud-speckled sky.

As predicted, deep in the night, their sled rounds a cliff and hundreds of little flames below earn gasps from Ryder and Honeymaren. Kristoff slows the reindeer to lengthen their enjoyment of the view. “Welcome to Arendelle!”

With that, Honeymaren leans over to gently shake Elsa awake.

“Oof,” she groans, lifting her head. Elsa must have tied back her blonde hair prior to her own nap. “Where are we?” Elsa asks.

“Almost there,” Kristoff calls back. Elsa rises, and with a hand on the back of Kristoff and Ryder’s seats, she looks out at the darkening sky, the moonlight reflecting off the fjord, and the streetlamps growing closer, leading the eye back to the castle.

Honeymaren, noticing the stiffness in Elsa’s body, stands for a better look. She quickly realizes maintaining her balance might require skill that she does not possess. As they hit a bump in the road—lots of bumps—she yelps. Just as quickly as she began to fall, Elsa puts an arm out behind her shoulders to steady her.

“Are you okay?”

“Ah!” Honeymaren gasps. “J-j-j-just a l-lit-t-t-t-tle b-b-b-bu-ump-p-y!”

“That’s cobblestone for you,” Kristoff says, tsking. He immediately pretends to be Sven: “Nothing wrong with good old dirt roads, Elsa.”

“You can take it up with the queen,” Elsa teases, in that restrained way that she does… everything.

To be honest, Ryder and Honeymaren aren’t paying close attention. The strange boxy buildings come at them from either side, bigger and closer as the cart bumps its way toward the largest building of them all. They cross a bridge and enter giant wooden doors through a wall of stone. A large clearing of stone, surrounded by stone walls, meets them. Up some stairs directly in front of them, larger doors bang open, and the siblings jump in surprise at the sound.

“Anna!” Elsa and Kristoff shout in unison, leaping out. Reddish brown hair comes flying down the stairs and leaps into their arms. What Honeymaren watches far more closely, however, are pale men in dark green jackets approaching the reindeer.

“Who are they?” she breathes out her teeth.

“I don’t know,” Ryder whispers back.

The strangers move to unhitch the reindeer, but they struggle with the Northuldran hitches and knots. As Sven is released and rushes up to the group hug, Ryder jumps out of the cart and helps his sister down.

To the struggling guards, Ryder says, “Uh, let me help you!” They back up from him, gawking at him and each other, and the hugging family looks over. After a tense pause, Ryder steps forward anyway and Honeymaren follows him. She squats beside Ryder and quickly releases the reindeer hitches, carefully monitoring the strange men. Then she catches Elsa moving toward them from the corner of her eye. Honeymaren feels Elsa step behind her, the nape of her neck prickling. When she finally stands, the men in matching clothes have awkwardly approached to take over the reindeers’ care. One man, similar to the others but older and stout, walks quickly towards them from afar. For a moment, Honeymaren regrets leaving her staff behind. He stops short, makes eye contact with Elsa and Anna, then sniffs at the other men. Honeymaren stays expressionless beside her fidgeting brother.

“Thank you, Kai,” Elsa says quietly, watching the portly fellow herd the guards away. She turns, seeking Honeymaren’s eyes. For a brief moment, she gets a sense of Elsa unlike anything she’s seen before. Even during their first confrontation in the woods, Elsa wasn’t so rigid, so stern. She looks like a wall of ice, like the glaciers from elders' stories.

Pulling her attention back from her assessments, Anna rushes up to the her and Ryder. “Thank you!” she sighs, wrapping her arms around Ryder and Honeymaren’s shoulders. “Thank you so much for coming!” Honeymaren sees that wall of ice, Elsa, melt slightly.

“Thank you!” Ryder replies. “Without you, we’d never be able to see all… this!”

“Oh hush, stop it, come in, come in!”

With a tiny smirk, Elsa says, “That’s an order from the queen.”

“Oh, shush and come here, _princess!”_ Anna rebukes, grabbing Elsa’s hand. With a laugh, they dash up the stairs, arm in arm. “How did you get back so quickly anyway?”

“We have a gift!” Ryder shouts, jogging behind them. Honeymaren shoots him a look.

“Yelena didn’t call them a gift!” Honeymaren hisses under her breath at him.

“They’re _my_ reindeer!” Ryder hisses back, nonetheless catching everyone's attention while he speaks with his hands.

“Why the fuck would you give up your own reindeer?!” 

“Kristoff saved them in the fire!”

“So?!” Despite her agitation, Honeymaren remains as expressionless as possible. 

“You know I’m shit at herding anyway, I can do what I want with them!” Once inside, Ryder and Honeymaren’s jaws drop at the size of the great hall. “Whoa.”

“Okay!” Anna says, her fist on her hips with a confident smile. “I'd give you a tour, but it’s so late we really all should get to bed, right?”

“I presume so,” Elsa replies.

“Where will we sleep?” Ryder asks, looking to his sister.

“Oh don't worry,” Anna starts. “I figured we’d split up, make a sleepover of it! Boys with boys and girls with girls.”

_Sleepover?_

“Wait, I thought you two,” Honeymaren starts, pointing from Anna to Kristoff and back, “would be… together?” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Elsa suck in her lip, an attempt to contain a nervous grin of some sort.

“Whaaaaat??” Anna responds. Loudly. “Oh nooooo, of course not!” Her pale face burns red. Laughing weirdly, she adds, “Not before we’re married!” Kristoff, by comparison, doesn’t react at all.

“Uh-huh.”

With a roll of her shoulder, Elsa encourages Honeymaren toward her. “This way.”

“Come on, Ryder,” Kristoff says, following Elsa’s lead. “We’ll see if we can get to bed without waking up Olaf. Light sleeper, that guy.”

Not so discreetly behind them, Elsa and Honeymaren chuckle at the sound of Anna hurriedly whispering to Kristoff arrangements to meet in some room at some time later that night. “Why not just say it?” Honeymaren shrugs at Elsa, grinning at last.

With an air more akin to the Elsa _she_ knows from back in the forest, she also shrugs, leading her round a dark corner. Moonlight from down the hallway illuminates Elsa’s hair, glowing like snow. With ice in her eyes—her gaze burning yet freezing at the same time—she looks at Maren with a smile. “Welcome to Arendelle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to imagine Elsa's three years as queen just chugging coffee and late at night face-planting on desks asleep,  
> i don't know why


	4. Chapter 3—Celebrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little adult language, a teench of suggested situations, I'd still call this a teen-safe chapter

**—Chapter 3—Celebrations—**

**—Elsa—**

Based on the Arendellian soldiers Honeymaren knew about growing up, she had expected the festivities to have far fewer people. Looking around herself in the “chapel” now, she wonders if perhaps half of all the people she knew could fit in it. However, turning around in the hard, wooden benches proves difficult. Beside her, Mattias chuckles. Ryder sits nervously on his other side, while Honeymaren wiggles for elbow room given the tall board of the pew at her other side, defeating the purpose—she thinks—of a _bench_.

“It’s so you have to face forward, like a good soldier,” Mattias says quietly.

“How are you, _General_ Mattias?” Honeymaren replies coolly. She doesn’t know what being a “general” means exactly, but it brings a tender twinkle to the man’s eye, reminding her that he nonetheless is an elder.

“Good,” he says, smiling with a wink. “We should be quiet now, though, Anna will be arriving shortly.”

“Finally,” Ryder says, squirming.

A song starts. Hidden above, a dozen or so voices sing words she doesn’t know.

“That’s Latin,” Mattias says, watching her curiosity. When she says nothing, he continues. “You know I think I was about your age when the mist fell over the enchanted forest.”

“It’s just a forest” she quietly retorts, eyes still searching for the singers. “All forests have spirits.”

He nods slowly. “Very well. A trapped forest perhaps… I am glad to see that you two get explore beyond the forest at this age instead of the other way around.” Honeymaren pauses, but Mattias gasps, and she turns around again. Everyone stands, but these Arendellians are all so _fucking_ tall that it makes Elsa look short. Round the edge of the bench’s board and peoples’ shoulders, Anna appears in the aisle, suddenly right beside Honeymaren. Catching her eye, Anna smiles intensely at her. As she passes, just past her far shoulder, Honeymaren now catches a glimpse of Elsa, standing ahead by the… shaman? Not like any _noaidi_ the Northuldra ever had. Whatever kind of spiritual leader he was. The sisters briefly hold each other’s hand, exchange a loving look, and Anna steps up toward the shaman. Meanwhile, Elsa pulls a soft cloth from some fold of her green-and-purple dress, passes it to little Olaf in the front row. He shares it with Kristoff, who cries softly beside him.

_What a darling._

As Anna bows slightly at long last and the man places a jeweled crown on her tightly wound hair, Honeymaren wonders at their matching hairdos, the similarly colored dresses, the change in their demeanor here in front of this chapel full of representatives. Her eyes lose focus, thinking of her elders at home and the weight of leadership.

_Everyone’s standing!?_ Honeymaren rushes to join them, realizing she's lost focus.

The shaman finishes his speech, “…Queen Anna, of Arendelle!”

\---

Although the celebratory meal was enormous, watching these pale people dance around after it in all their layers of silks and vests and a multitude of impossibly complicated dresses keeps Honeymaren from drifting off. Standing in a corner, she folds her arms across her chest. “This is weird.”

“This is really weird,” Ryder agrees, nonetheless shoving another meat-packed bun in his face, secreted from the dinner hall. Then the music changes. Anna arrives, people are bowing and cheering, and Elsa follows just behind her. The man named Kai announces the sisters’ arrival. They stand together, and Honeymaren sighs with relief. Elsa’s hair, though braided, lays loose, and she’s changed into something more… herself. Anna doesn’t seem to mind the weight of her clothes though, as Kristoff rushes up to offer the first dance, wearing clothes that look just as heavy and impractical. The pair giggles together, attempting to negotiate their respective outfits and reach the dancefloor safely.

“Oh, hey Elsa!” Ryder exclaims through a full mouth, elbowing his sister.

“Hey, you two.”

“So, this is a coronation,” Honeymaren says, feeling stiff herself. And uncomfortably warm.

“Really, this is just the party,” Elsa shrugs, looking across the gathering.

“Not like any party I’ve seen!”

“No?” Elsa asks, “The Northuldra don’t have food and music and dancing at their parties?”

“When you put it like that, I guess we do,” Ryder admits.

Honeymaren sees him approach first and takes her turn to elbow her sibling.

“Princess Elsa.”

Turning around, Elsa too sees General Mattias’s beaming face, which she returns. “Welcome!”

“Happy to be here. Since the lovely queen already has a dance partner, I thought I would offer you some company in the ballroom.”

“I’m flattered, Mattias, but I’m afraid I don’t dance.”

Honeymaren whips her face around to look at Elsa. “Don’t dance?”

“Mm-mm,” she hums, shakes her head.

“You don’t—okay, no,” Honeymaren says, her brain buzzing with sudden agitation. She's not entirely sure why this information has shocked her, but her next words surprise even herself. “Mattias, may I?”

Nodding but stunned, the General takes her offered hand. “You certainly may! Though maybe you’ll want to take the hat off.” Elsa looks a little nervous, truly puzzled as Honeymaren authoritatively places her own hat on Elsa’s blonde hair. With that, she marches off holding Mattias’s hand as lightly as possible.

“Do you know how to do this dance?” Mattias asks under his breath as they reach the center of the ballroom and face each other. He subtly looks around the room. Although _Arendelle_ certainly looks like him and even a little like Honeymaren, she can see his mind churning at the sight of so many foreign dignitaries from other nearby countries. Clearly, he’s panicking or planning, she can tell from his eyes. The room full of mostly pale people does seem to pay keen attention to the two of them. “The Queen and Kristoff did a _mazurka_ dance, some modern fad, we can probably get through this with just a waltz. I haven’t done this in a long time—is it hot in here to you?”

“Invading your dance space?” Honeymaren smirks. “I’ll figure it out.”

**—Elsa—**

To her credit, Elsa doesn’t hide her face. In fact, she watches the whole dance, holding her breath. Well-mannered politicians take up the dance alongside the General and her honored guest— _hers_. Because _she_ invited Ryder and Maren. The less mannered, well… admittedly they aren’t her problem anymore, but Anna and Elsa exchange a particularly royal glance.

Maren, she realizes, does not take to following easily. How she’s not sure, but Elsa can feel the air around Mattias and her, like the molecules burn and freeze between them. Her long, dark braid shifts, moves with Maren’s movements, not in reaction to the General’s. To her relief, however, Mattias remains gentle and kind. He doesn’t push her body around, but spins at her pace, masking it with his masculine stature. Indeed, although appearing to do his proper part, Mattias merely keeps them in sync. Everyone else—though a little put out by the stuffy old waltz—follows the lead pair. Maren seems to decide for herself where to put her feet, but carries the air of weightlessness as well as anyone else on the dance floor.

“Not bad!” They manage to trick Ryder, and even some of the dignitaries near them.

Elsa nods with relief. “Not bad.”

**—Honeymaren—**

Nerves from every one of her fingers to every single toe radiate electricity through Honeymaren’s body as she lifts her hand elegantly, mirroring Mattias’s graceful movements into a bow. Even as she bows in return, Honeymaren can’t help but smirk at imagining if her mentor had seen this mutual sign of respect. The strange, pleasant music stops. They lift their eyes to each other, and Honeymaren thinks Mattias might even look proud. As the assembled applaud the musicians, he bows his head ever so slightly again. Just for her.

**—Elsa—**

Kristoff and Ryder drunkenly attempt to wrestle arms while they walk into the library in the royal chambers of the castle, with expected results: challenges, disputes, and laughter. Kristoff still wears his formal attire, albeit sloppy at this point in the night. The mild state of disrepair suits him better, honestly. Elsa had a habit of not questioning what was going on with her sister’s official courtship; at this point that information is also not her problem. How he dressed would not have concerned her sentimentalities previously, anyway. And following in Elsa’s footsteps, Arendelle had come to expect the unexpected.

_Not being in charge feels so good!_

The effect of the wine doesn’t hurt either.

Maren watches them all, amused, walking backwards in front of them. Elsa struggles to remember seeing her drink a single beverage the whole night, but nothing comes to mind. Honestly, Elsa struggles to feel where her hands end and the air begins. Anna throws an arm around her back, giggling fiercely. It’s hard to remember what she, Elsa, wanted to say about all this at the end of the night among friends—no, family. Share some wisdom or love or something…

“Not fair!” Kristoff cries. “Two outta three!”

“Sure!” Ryder says loudly, “But like,” he leans off the couch arm, his elbow clearly not placed with much determination, “this should not go on any record.”

“Everything,” Anna yells cheerfully, “is on my record!” Olaf, holding Anna’s other hand, applauds and giggles cheerfully. But his giggles morph into a yawn—he’s up well past his usual bedtime. "Aaaand you lose, Ryder!"

“Thas not faaaaiiir!” Ryder whines. “I was doing good!”

“It isn’t really,” Honeymaren chuckles. She sits on the couch, leaning on its opposite arm, watching all that ensues.

“I can make it fair!” Olaf says, rushing up to the boys. “Here, okay,” he continues, taking off one of his arms to mark where their elbows should sit on the couch’s arm. Elsa shakes her head at it all; why anyone would arm wrestle while walking, or even on a couch arm, makes no sense. “Now put your elbows down. Well don’t knock my arm off the couch, Kristoff,” he says, pick up his wood arm and gently slaps Kristoff with it. “That defeats the point. Let’s find a table, guys.”

“No,” Anna croons, “Guys, come on, I gotta get out of this dress. Let’s go to bed.”

“But I’m not even—” Olaf starts, but yawns yet again.

“You’ve been up a long time, little guy,” Elsa says, leaning down with her arms outstretched. Olaf grins and runs to her for a one-armed hug. “And we have a big day tomorrow, mm?”

“Wait,” Ryder says, grabbing Olaf’s other arm and holding it up, “you forgot this!” …only to slip out of his seat onto the floor. “Whoooooaaa, look at the ceiling! It’s pretty. Did it always spin like that?”

“Uh oh.” Kristoff picks up Ryder, slinging his arm over his shoulder. “I think it is time for bed after all.”

“Oooo wait wait wait!” Anna squeals, rushing up for a triplet of little kisses. She whispers—drunkenly and not very quietly—further: “See you in the fifth guest-room in uh… two hours?”

“Anna, it’s almost three in the morning,” Kristoff whispers back. “And everyone can hear you.”

“Oh, my goodness! Okay, let’s go to bed! Sleepover! Girls night! Lesgo!” She rushes to link arms with Elsa and Maren, who holds up a palm, tilting her head quizzically even as she’s scooped into Anna’s pull.

“So, wait, what’s this big day tomorrow?” Although Honeymaren looks to Elsa, she in turn diverts her gaze to the queen.

“Well Anna, you’re the woman of the hour.”

“I am.” It’s the smuggest smile Elsa’s ever seen. “We have a whole day exploring Arendelle planned out for you two!” Maren looks surprised. Ryder looks… like dead weight at this point. “We each picked out some of our favorite things to show you! But it’s a surprise so act surprised tomorrow.”

“I am, in fact, surprised.”

“Can we maybe keep it a surprise?” Kristoff asks, struggling under Ryder’s weight. “Or am I gonna have to go get Sven for help?”

With that, Olaf got his goodnight hugs and kisses from the sisters, a courteous handshake from Honeymaren, and Kristoff repositioned Ryder so he could carry him on his back while Olaf followed them down the hall.

**—Honeymaren—**

Anna barely makes it out of her clothes before passing out. Honeymaren hides a laugh and graciously turns her back, Elsa struggling to maintain her little sister’s dignity by throwing her into some kind of nightgown. The oddities of Arendellians.

The sound of Elsa’s struggles eases Honeymaren into thought. Poor Ryder, didn’t even get to see his crush carry him to bed, even if it was like a dead deer… But the timing right after Anna’s message might have played a part _… oh no…_ Ryder is young and fairly new to exploring the possibilities. She knows he never really believed that he would catch mountainous Kristoff’s eyes away from Anna, or even possibly Anna’s eyes from Kristoff, but such feelings follow no logic. He can’t have hoped that far… _could he have?_

“Ahem.”

Honeymaren stays put, turns her head round her shoulder. Anna must have been tucked in a while ago because Elsa’s had enough time to change into… a dress? Surely the sparkling mauve shift she’s got on will make sleep impossible…?

“It’s safe now,” Elsa says, her hair loose and flowing down her shoulders.

Honeymaren feels heat rising from her chest to her cheeks. Suddenly, she realizes she has yet to change herself. Just as suddenly, she feels shy.

“Are you sure?” she replies at last, turning more. She crosses her arms, squeezing those anxious fingers tight and out of sight. “Is that thing safe to sleep in?”

Elsa rolls her eyes with a smile while she jumps into Anna’s enormous, fluffy bed. “Entirely safe, as previously stated. Besides it’s _silk_.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” Still, Honeymaren relaxes, removing her boots and hat. “I still don’t entirely trust that thing.”

“The nightgown?” Elsa asks, lifting her head up to watch. She crawls under the covers beside her sister, who had spread out her limbs every which way and somehow _still_ had lots of room to spare.

Walking up to the edge barefoot, Honeymaren says, “No, this bed! How do you keep from drowning in it?” Elsa simply tucks herself further under the covers until only her eyes peep out. Honeymaren chuckles, it’s just so cute. “Whatever suits you. Silk and drowning.” A foot kicks her in the stomach. A thin layer of frost—the exact size and shape of Elsa’s foot—appears on it. “Hey!”

With that, Maren shimmies off her pants and pulls off her gákti and its accompanying dark green shirt with haste, leaving her in her undergarments. She leaps onto the bed, chasing after Elsa’s squeals. They wrestle through the blankets as Honeymaren fights to tickle her. Peeling back layer after layer of however many blankets, just as she’s about reach at Elsa in earnest, she pulls a thin window of ice in front of her. “That’s cheating!”

Anna stirs. Elsa covers her mouth with both hands. Sucking her teeth, Honeymaren un-straddles her would-be victim. “Okay, but that is cheating.”

“It was fair game when Anna and I were growing up. She managed to find ways around it.”

Honeymaren finally gets under the covers, farthest from Anna with Elsa in between. “How serious were these tickle fights?”

“Not very, we were very little.” Something sad edges into her voice. Honeymaren just barely catches it. She studies Elsa’s face. And waits. “My powers were curious at first, but not any kind of problem until… One day, Anna and I were playing and…”

“If it’s too difficult to talk about, we don’t have to.”

Elsa’s eyes, once again the only part of her sticking out from under the covers, catch hers in an electric grip.

“Plus, Olaf gave us a condensed version.”

“Oh God, that’s right!” A pale hand reaches up from under the blankets to hide Elsa’s face.

“How could you forget?”

Quiet laughter shimmers out of them. To Honeymaren’s relief, Elsa comes out of hiding a tiny bit. But what she can see just shines.

“Oh Olaf! I made him by accident if you can believe it.”

“Really?”

“When I ran away after _my_ coronation, I built him with just a flick of the wrist. Walked away. I had no idea I’d imbued him with life until he and Anna showed up, walking and talking away!”

“Rather like how we met him.”

“Exactly! We used to play in the great hall, making snowmen like him all the time. But none of them came to life until I was an adult, it was incredible.”

“It is incredible.” Honeymaren smiles gently at Elsa. “What else did you enjoy as kids?”

Delighted, Elsa confides other childhood antics. Honeymaren listens intently, tenderly, just as she observes tenderness growing in her chest along the way. She wants to hear these stories first, the ones that tell her who Elsa is, because… because…

_Because she’s not what happened to her._ The sun rises all too soon. Honeymaren watches Elsa fall asleep just as the light hits her, and follows close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate it (:


	5. Chapter 4—Reparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings except I forgot how fluffy this chapter is. Or at least I think it's fluffy.

**—Chapter 4—Reparations—**

**—Honeymaren—**

Something stirs Honeymaren, a shift of weight of some kind. Her eyes flutter open, aware but not yet concerned. When she does, she discovers her nose buried in blonde hair. Beneath the crook of her arm, she feels the slow rhythmic breathing of Elsa’s body. For less than a second, Honeymaren stiffens. She forces herself to exhale, take note of her surroundings. Elsa still sleeps, so she cranes her neck up and sees Anna on the other side of the bed, also shifting but also unconscious.

Although she knows she must have been asleep very little time, Honeymaren feels rested enough to not simply close her eyes. It’s tempting though; she gives in to the temptation to take one more deep breath, of that floral scent that’s Elsa. However, Anna’s movements suggest she’ll wake up soon. With a quiet sigh, Honeymaren slowly lifts her arm off of Elsa and shifts back and away from her. She thanks whatever forces woke her so Elsa didn’t catch her embracing her like that. Even by her personal standards, it’s awfully intimate.

Elsa moves and a small grumble meets Honeymaren’s ears. _Perfect timing!_ she thinks, pulling the blanket over her face more to hide her blushing cheeks and wide eyes. And if she’s not mistaken, Honeymaren senses that perhaps Anna has frozen as well. _Was she awake…?_ Sitting up slightly, Elsa eyes Anna’s side of the bed first, then surveys the room. When blue eyes reach her, Honeymaren untucks her face, blinking rapidly.

“You awake?” Elsa asks, her voice a little frail. Honeymaren simply nods. “Is Anna?”

“I don’t think so,” Honeymaren mutters.

Humming, Elsa brings a hand to her face, grimacing. “So that’s what a regular coronation is like.”

“Are you all right?”

“Nothing coffee and breakfast won’t fix,” she sighs. “Did you sleep well?” Again, Honeymaren nods. “Good. It’s a little curious that Anna wanted to have us all ‘sleep over’ like this.”

“She misses you.” Honeymaren knows this for a fact. “You said that you shared a room growing up?”

“We did,” Elsa says with a smile. She sits up, turning to slumbering Anna, and places a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, time to wake up.” A loud grumble responds. “It’s your first day as queen.”

\---

By the looks of everyone at breakfast, Elsa has plenty of company while nursing her ills. Anna bubbles over with delight now that she’s up and dressed, but winces frequently. Kristoff nods tiredly at anything Olaf says. And Ryder…

“Mare, I don’t think I can eat,” he whispers to his sister. His face is grey and his dark blue eyes look sunken while he clings to his stomach. Anna speaks animatedly to the others, wincing at her own volume.

“Just try to get a little something down,” she encourages, rubbing his shoulder from her seat beside him at the table.

“All I want is reindeer jerky.”

“How about some of this coffee?” Honeymaren offers, pushing his mug a little closer to him. “Elsa said that it helps her, and she seems okay. I’ll have some, too.” And Elsa is okay, but not great if Honeymaren’s honest with herself. Still, she knows Ryder doesn’t require an “I told you so,” nor does anyone else in the room.

“Who is ready and excited to explore!?” Anna cheers. With a sideways glance, Honeymaren catches Ryder’s ashen face turn a touch green.

\---

The places visited beyond the palace thus far include:

  * an early morning “constitutional” with miniscule stone creatures—called “trolls”—courtesy of Kristoff;
  * an introduction to every shopkeeper and tradesman in town—literally every single one—because Anna knows each one and their respective families (she literally sang a song about it);
  * lunch—including some horrid item called lutefisk that inspired Ryder’s disappearance to the nearest outhouse—at what they called a tavern (itself has a sub-type, “Hudson’s Hearth”) where they met a lovely woman called Halima;
  * across the steep hills to the other side of the harbor farthest from the castle, Elsa showed them a small park with a large tree, with an old carving in its bark—a heart with a crown on top and inside, Arendellian letters “A & I;”
  * Olaf leads them to a school, where he convinces them all to shake hands with each child as they head home for the day.



Presently, “because she’s queen now,” Anna directs their cart back into town. With the sun setting, Honeymaren hopes they stop soon. Everything in Arendelle entrances, of course, but overstimulation threatens her nerves. Just a few days ago, she knew only the forest. Looking at the sky still overwhelms her at times. Meeting so many people and seeing so many things and learning how infinitesimally small this _enormous_ city was compared to maps of the whole world… disorients her.

“Arendelle owes everything to Elsa!” Anna screams over the hubbub of the street, the bouncing wheels of the cart, and the wind in their ears.

“But the Northuldra owes everything to you, Anna,” Elsa yells back. “You really did save everyone.”

“You both did great shi-stuff! Please sit down!” Kristoff yanks Sven’s reins from Anna, pulling her back to her seat.

Honeymaren glances beside her at Ryder’s face. Hours into this escapade exploring Arendelle’s exquisite cultural treasures, and he’s still green. She smiles a little sadly and rubs his back. Olaf sits on Ryder’s lap, as though inherently aware that cooler temperature helps settle his stomach.

“Stopstopstop!” Anna shouts. Sven obeys with a grunt. They skid, nearly tipping the cart, into the center of an intersection near central Arendelle. The castle looms nearby. Straightening herself out before anyone else, Anna stands triumphantly. “We’re here!”

“Um… where exactly?” Olaf asks, adjusting his nose from the back of his head to the front. He waddles to the edge of the cart, looking for whatever Anna could be mean.

Kristoff shrugs. Speaking as Sven, he adds, “Beats me!”

Anna drags Ryder and Honeymaren by the hand out of the cart. With a buoyant glance, she shows them an empty space in the middle of the crossing avenues. “It’s going to be right here!”

“What is?” Kristoff asks, offering Elsa a hand as they both step off the cart.

With a flourish, Anna pulls a scroll out of a pocket to her dress. As she unfurls it, they all crowd around her to take a look. She holds it up, an odd drawing of two children on an odder pedestal. It takes Honeymaren a moment, but she realizes that Anna’s artist simply lacks the same elegant touch that Elsa and Gale did in the forest.

“It’s our parents!”

Anna keeps talking, but Honeymaren hears it as though through water. Her eyes fix on the children—one clearly Northuldrian and one Arendellian, side by side… Mattias and Yelena walking out of the forest of mists arm in arm flashes before her eyes. When she refocuses, Elsa and Anna are hugging. Ryder watches her expectantly, nodding upward at her to get her to do something. Stepping forward, Honeymaren addresses them both. “We—Ryder and I, but the Northuldra as well—we uh… You’ve shown us so much hospitality and offered great kindness. It is… um, impossible to convey the extent of our gratitude.” Hopefully, that will suffice. “Thank you,” she adds with a nod. _Ugh, that was awful._

“There is,” Elsa starts, “one more thing.” Her eyes dart between Honeymaren and her sister; even Anna looks intrigued. The former queen, her braided hair gently tugged by the wind, steps between Honeymaren and Ryder. She’s so close, Honeymaren can just feel her cool breath against the skin of her neck just below her ear. Elsa points. “You see that building there?”

“Yes.” It’s larger than most of the others on the street, with a dome-shaped top above the corner-facing doors. Ryder scratches his chin, pondering it.

“That’s a bank.”

“What’s a bank exactly?” Ryder asks.

“Excellent question,” Olaf says. “Banks were founded—”

“It’s where you put your money,” Kristoff replies, interrupting Olaf.

“Yes.” Elsa again. She crosses her arms across herself like a hug. Anxious. “As my last official act as queen, I took some money—speciedalers, we call them, although officially we’re changing them to krones soon—and…”

“You did not,” Anna gasps. She lays a hand on Elsa’s shoulder, eyes alight.

Ryder takes the moment to lean over to his sister to whisper. “What’s money?”

“Shut up,” Honeymaren scolds under her breath.

Elsa makes the most adorable face at Anna, biting her lip through a smile and lifting an eyebrow, as if she’s about to surprise herself. Honeymaren can feel herself smiling at the sight, just like when Elsa came back from the dead _just to tell her that Athohallen was beautiful_. “I did. Honeymaren, Ryder—your tribe now has an account with the official bank of Arendelle. I will go over the details with Yelena and the others when we return, but it is a substantial amount. A gift from the royal family to…” She takes a nervous breath. “To make amends.”

“I still don’t know what any of this means,” Ryder says. Kristoff chuckles at him, slaps his shoulder warmly.

“Then keep your ignorance to yourself,” Honeymaren teases, earning Ryder a sympathetic groan from everyone else and some more chuckles. She takes her own advice and simply takes the hands of the two sisters before her. With a shrug she admits, “I don’t either. But thank you.”

\---

Yelena blinks at Honeymaren. Back home, they sit together in her goahti, sipping on coffee. She must admit, the black beverage grows on her with each serving. The heat ebbs from her kuksa to her fingers, staving off the increasing cold in the air. Soon snow fall on their new free life. Honeymaren feels relieved at having seen goahtis already covered in outer layers of birch tree trunks.

They catch each other’s glance at last. Yelena seems lost for words.

“So,” Yelena says finally, “Ryder gave them his reindeer.”

Honeymaren sighs. “Yes.”

Still Yelena ponders all that Honeymaren has told her about their journey.

“Did they say… how much money they gave?”

Somber, Honeymaren shrugs. “Elsa has papers to give to you. She tried to show me and explain, but I can’t read any of it. Much less understand it if I could.”

She puffs hair out of her face with a wide-eyed look in response. “Can’t say I’ll do much better,” Yelena admits. Together they wonder silently at Elsa’s gesture, and Anna’s, and what significance these acts will play in the tribe’s future. After a suitable time has passed, Yelena takes another bite dried reindeer meat and nods at Honeymaren. “Very well. Go home, get some rest.”

But Honeymaren does not head home. She stops at the communal goahti, peeks her head in. Olaf, Elsa, and Kristoff have set up beds for themselves.

“Honeymaren!”

“Hey,” she says with a shy wave, “just thought I would come say good night.”

Olaf runs up to her and pulls her inside with him. “That’s so sweet of you, Honeymaren. Look, look! Bruni and I can give each other warm hugs!” he exclaims. The salamander spirit sure enough leaps onto Olaf’s chest as the little snowman lays down on a small pile of blankets. Sure enough, a pleasant steam wafts up. Delighted, Olaf wraps his branch arms over the salamander without injury, starting to coo at it like a reindeer calf.

“Your favorite!”

“Mhmm!”

Meanwhile, a warm breeze encircles Honeymaren, blows her hat off. Gale seems to have invited herself in. “Warm hugs from you too, Gale?”

“Only when Elsa asks,” Kristoff says. “You should see Sven.”

“Why?” Honeymaren bends to grab her hat, and Gale blows it further away. Elsa giggles. Gale chitters at them all, buzzing about the spacious interior with curiosity. She flips over pelts and rattles pots and pans hanging from the ceiling.

“It isn’t funny!” Kristoff insists.

“It’s very funny!” Olaf says, petting Bruni, unharmed by any flames.

“He shed his antlers, okay?” Kristoff grumbles, “…picked them up and stood them on his—”

“On his butt!”

The little fire spirits sparks, startled by Olaf, dashing off to Elsa. Kristoff grimaces.

“O-hokay, Olaf,” Elsa says. “Bedtime.”

Gale at last stops leading Honeymaren on. She picks up her hat and replaces it. As she stands back up, she catches a look cross Elsa’s face, hidden quickly behind her tight-lipped smile. A pang tugs at Honeymaren’s heart, seeing the little family on their last night.

Walking through a light snowfall up to her own home, Honeymaren thinks back on Elsa leaving the castle early that morning: She walked toward them all, the packed cart beyond the gates, and the wind at her back. Behind Elsa in the courtyard, Queen Anna shook with tears but waved as she watched her sister leave their private embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short, but don't worry; everything going forward is meatier. Enjoy the fluff while it lasts.
> 
> @ Ravrav - ha thanks! Elsa's earned some cute shit
> 
> @ fanficfruitts - thank you! hope you keep enjoying


	6. Chapter 5—North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning y'all
> 
> Cheat code for the future: --- is a change of scene, *** refers to a dream, +++ refers to a flashback
> 
> No warnings today. There is a special note at the bottom.  
> But this chapter is extra super long, it just didn't break up well.

**—Chapter 5—North—**

**—Elsa—**

_Falling._

_Shattered ice._

_Water so cold, she misses the drowning chill of Athohallen’s dark embrace._

_Then rushing motion, pulling and pushing her through dark waters. Too fast!_

I’m too tired… let me rest…

_She’s moving too swiftly to open her eyes, too rapidly to raise her hands; she can only cling to the force around her. As frenetically fast as she’s vaulted through water, the water itself takes shape under her hands just as slowly. Hot light breaks through the rushing depths to her skin, and she feels herself rising toward it. The watery shape jostles her now, and as it beats against her and the force carrying them both forward, she realizes—the Nokk! Elsa finally opens her eyes just as they leap out into air._

Breathe!

_Sunshine fills her eyes with Arendelle. Immediately love flows from her whole heart._

Anna!

_Her powers rage forth, waiting at her fingertips. The Nokk leaps with all his madness, pushing them out ahead of the deluge. Determination links them together, and as one they turn._

_In a flash, Elsa understands. Others had told her what it feels like when the winter takes too much of a toll. Rushing to fireplaces, fingers freezing so much that it burns. Athohallen has finally shown her what it means to burn with the cold, even if it took killing her. That is the exact sensation at her fingertips every single time her powers flow out of her. A beautiful, bracing, burning love that flies out into her world._

_A wall of ice so big, impossibly powerful launches to meet the water and turns it back. It hurts_ so _good._

***

Elsa wakes gently from the dream. She keeps her eyes closed a moment longer, savoring the memory. Breathing slowly, peace radiates out of her chest like fire. The quiet sounds of morning activities beyond encourage her to wake. Above her, ice glistens from faint moonlight.

The days shorten faster here than in Arendelle, but her habits as a monarch linger. Every day, Elsa wakes at roughly the same hour and minute as the day before. After a month of living with the Northuldra, the dark hardly hinders her morning routine.

A small structure made of ice surrounds her. Like a small family’s lavvu or goahti, it’s shaped like a cone inside and out. It even has vertical etching along the walls, stylized like the thick tree branches that make up the traditional homes of the tribe. But the floor reflects the traditions of the Northuldra: a sunken hollow at the entrance for snow-covered boots, raised packed earth covered thickly with reindeer pelts further inside, another lowered basin near the center surrounded by large stones with a carefully constructed firepit. Beside it sits a small wood stove that Elsa had triumphantly installed herself, a little dented from the process. A low bed frame of ice crowds the wall at one side, covered with more pelts as well as thick blankets and pillows from Arendelle. Other touches of her old life dot her home: books, cookware hanging from swirling ice branches above, a humble pair of chairs.

She shuffles barefoot across the pelts—each one a gift from a household of the tribe. In the dark, she unpacks the last pastry that Anna had given her during her first visit back to Arendelle, last week. Behind her, a warmth clicks from new fire she didn’t start, and she smiles.

“Good morning,” she says to Bruni. His telling purple flames pop in greeting. “How are you today?” With a smile she passes him some bites of smoked fish, biting into her own pastry shortly after. Elsa suspects the other spirits don’t actually need to eat, but the salamander always takes kindly to the gesture. He doesn’t always stay long, but of the four spirits of the forest, Bruni braves the company of humans to visit Elsa most often. Gulping down the last of her stale but delicious treat, Elsa stands, wraps her mother’s scarf more tightly around her shoulders and sets up a copper kettle. Anna gave it to her before she moved out of the castle. Yelena keeps promising that she would show them all the old rituals eventually, including those involving coffee, from the days before the mist. However, their new freedom keeps her busy too many hours per day.

In any case, she grinds her coffee by hand and cooks it up directly in the kettle. When it’s ready, she fills a porcelain cup. Bruni’s left already, and Elsa enjoys the solitude for a moment.

Yelena greets her with a nod once Elsa leaves her ice goahti. As always, she walks through the thick snow barefoot, wearing only her pearl leggings and shoulderless dress. “Have you had coffee yet?” she asks. Elsa nods with a smile. “Good,” Yelena replies, looking east again. “You’re useless without it.”

“You know me well.”

Yelena shrugs slightly. Soon, others come out of their homes and gather facing east. Off in the distance, a pair of people watch over the grazing reindeer, digging into the snow in search of lichen. Slowly, a breath of warmth and light grows across them.

The sun rises above the hill to the southeast. Its light cuts dancing shadows through the female reindeers’ horns. And Elsa can feel a deep sigh cross the people gathered. Beautiful as it is, and as different as her life had been from theirs up to this point, Elsa breathes in the direct contact of sunlight. She relishes it, craves it. To be fair though, she craves _all_ sensation outside of the castle nowadays.

“That’s enough for me,” Yelena shrugs. The leader of the tribe starts climbing the hill toward the shepherds to discuss their quiet night watching over the reindeer herd and have them relieved. Meanwhile, most families start fires outside the goahtis for heat while they enjoy the shortlived sunshine. No one has much to do this time of year, Elsa had learned. Like bears and like Arendelle, people seek to minimize exertion, focusing on the necessities of life like staying warm. _We focus on the necessities of life,_ she thinks, correcting herself. Untouched by the cold, Elsa has found activities to keep herself busy.

Children, like Elsa, also require entertaining. Unlike their parents, staying in the huts and napping cannot satisfy their growing bodies’ needs. So, they gather now by one of the fires. Elsa follows along, accepting the hand offered to her by a little boy, eager to pull her forward. Into thicker forest they go to one of the many goahtis stationed there where arctic winds buffet them less. One of the elders waits for them. Everyone sits comfortably on the snow, the children often looking up through the trees at the ever-changing sky.

“Welcome, fifth spirit,” the elder says with a smile for Elsa, patiently letting the children hush in their own time. “Joining us again today?”

“Yes, but just Elsa is fine.”

“Elsa,” the little boy whispers, pointing up, “look, the morning is pink today!”

His joy feels contagious. “It’s a lovely color.”

Another smaller child—wearing furs that look heavier than she is—sits herself in Elsa’s lap.

“All right then, Elsa. Kids, let’s get started. Today, I’m going to tell you about the man and the bear!” Some of the older children gasp excitedly. “Two friends went hunting for grouse—”

“What’s a grouse?” the little girl asks. Elsa resists the urge to bop her on the nose.

“A kind of bird, maybe you’ll see one in the spring,” answers the story teller. “The friends were up high in the mountains when a terrible storm came upon them. They were separated! And the man in our story took a wrong step, falling! Falling deep into a cave with no hope of escape… from the big, sleeping bear!”

\---

Only a few hours pass until the sun dips back under the horizon. The elder sends Elsa and the children on their way. While the little ones spread out to play or return to their families, Elsa turns southeast once again, toward open ground. Approaching the reindeer, she picks up her pace.

“Elsa! Hi!”

“Hello, Ryder,” she smiles up at him as he rides a reindeer over toward her, still waving enthusiastically. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” Then he speaks as the reindeer with him. “I’m cold if anyone’s asking!”

She nods, crossing her arms at the wrist in front of her. Stately in habit, but rather unsure below the surface. “Nothing to report so far today?”

“No, not really,” he sighs happily. “No angry spirits, no traipsing through the snow because the reindeer can’t find any lichen, it’s great out here. Did you listen to any stories today?”

“Mhmm,” she nods, “one about a bear who feeds a man in a cave, but kills him when the man betrays his location to other humans.”

“I know that one! It was one of my favorites growing up.”

“Elsa!” She turns at the sound of her name, her posture relaxing immediately. Maren trots her reindeer toward them from the far side of the hill. But Elsa does not see Ryder’s face, also looking toward Honeymaren, repeatedly wiggling his eyebrows at her. Reaching them finally, she gently punches Ryder’s side. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I get to talk to her too!” Ryder feigns injury.

Turning away from her brother, Maren smiles down at her. “How are you, Elsa?”

“Wonderful, thanks,” she replies, quietly sighing to herself as she meets Maren’s brown-eyed gaze.

“Good,” Maren says with a nod. “You should come see the other side of the hill!”

“How come?” Ryder asks.

“The earth giant, obviously. Really, Elsa, come see.”

Together all three of them start walking. Although Elsa suspects she knows what to expect, the fact that the siblings share their excitement over the new relationships they have with the spirits in their homeland warms her heart.

“Any letters from Anna and Kristoff lately?” Ryder asks as they walk. Honeymaren coughs, giving her younger brother a glare.

_Should probably ask about that later…_ “Yes, actually," Elsa responds. "Gale brought me one last night. They want me to visit Arendelle for Christmas.”

“Christmas?”

“It’s a holiday in late December. We have a whole tradition within the kingdom.”

“So, you’re going?” Maren asks.

“Definitely,” Elsa says. When she turns to look up at Maren again, she’s frowning and won't look at Elsa directly. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” she huffs, shrugs. “We have a winter solstice ceremony. I assumed we would all get to go together.”

“Oh,” Elsa says, glancing away. “I’m sorry. What happens?”

Ryder leans forward, covering his steed’s ears with his hands. “Not in front of the reindeer!” he hisses at Maren. She chuckles, taking a soft encouraging jab from Ryder.

“Does that answer your question?” Maren asks.

Elsa opens her mouth to say not, but just smiles instead. “I think so. Oh!” They stop at the far side of the hill, which is in fact a short cliff, maybe fifteen meters down. On the plain beyond, one of the earth giants has its hands to the ground. At least she thinks of them as hands. The giant looks less humanoid than when Elsa last saw it. Smooth shapes protrude from its body. “Do you think it’s okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Maren assures her. “But look what’s happening!”

Elsa looks closer. The earth shifts under the snow in front of the giant’s hands, carving patterns into the snow. Hills rise and fall softly, glistening like waves in the sea. An arctic fox plays in the shifting snow, chittering at the giant.

“Wow!”

“I’ve _never_ seen anything like that!” Ryder says. “I know the elders said things were different before the forest fell but—”

“This is extraordinary,” Maren finishes. They take a beat to coo over the fox rolling on the ground happily.

“So, how are you getting to Arendelle? Are Kristoff and Sven going to come pick you up?”

Elsa only glances at Ryder, still transfixed by the strange scene. “No, probably not. I was just planning to ride Nokk.”

“The Nokk?” Honeymaren scoffs but quickly tries to change the expression on her face when she catches sight of Elsa's quizzical brow. “Are-Are you going walk to the sea?”

“No,” Elsa responds, a little coolly, “I can walk out onto the fjord and meet him there.”

Arms crossed, Maren looks away from her. “I don’t like the idea of you walking out on ice.”

She crosses her own arms. “Honeymaren, I _am_ ice.” Ryder and his reindeer look back and forth between the women. Elsa doesn’t question it. She can feel a conflict rising, although she can’t quite pinpoint why. Maren’s unreadable, but in a completely different way from the men Elsa's used to: diplomats and heads of state and bankers. The uncertainty around the sudden tension bothers Elsa, pushes her to an edge. Anxiety bubbles up in her, and she masks it with cold hostility despite herself.

At last, Maren grumbles, “I don’t like the idea of anybody walking out on ice.”

“But you go ice-fishing,” Ryder quietly says.

“You know what I mean!" Maren growls. "Thin ice is dangerous. You know that! Any ice close enough to open water is ice that’s too thin, and the Nokk only comes up at open water.”

“Again,” Elsa says in her stately repose. “I have my powers to protect me. And I’ve travelled with Nokk before. While I understand that it might not be safe for everyone, I am an exception." Then she adds, barely hiding bitterness in her voice, "If ice is dangerous, then so am I.”

Maren puffs up but holds her tongue. If she didn’t know better, Elsa thinks surely Anna taught her how to glower disapprovingly like that. Diplomacy as a queen rarely inspired such an obvious reaction—Elsa was used to walls, smoke, mirrors, and more in order to mask true motives and feelings. Even then, those subtle reactions had a plethora of context clues to give meaning to them. Elsa feels flummoxed looking at Maren right now, so clearly miffed without explanation. Even with Ryder available to help, he clearly is at a loss himself.

**—Honeymaren—**

Elsa left earlier today. Honeymaren's stomach gnaws inward. They had been friendly all week, but Honeymaren knows she'd been standoffish. And then to find out just before Elsa left that tomorrow's her birthday?

The solstice is tomorrow. Yelena and the other elders come to her during daylight, near the end of Honeymaren’s turn watching the herd. With a nod and a wave of a heavily gloved hand, she leads them forward through the blinding snow. In time, they arrive at a small group of white, female reindeer. The elders pray together, surrounding these reindeer; Honeymaren waits nearby. Only women are present, and Ryder’s absence brings that annual discomfort to Honeymaren yet again. At least the winter solstice feels consistent at this point. She knows that she plays a vital role, that guilt is the cost for meat, and that such guilt is ritualistically accounted for among her people. From afar, she can see Ryder watching her, right at the edge of the forest trees.

Behind her, the elder women of the Northuldra begin to joik. Immediately, Honeymaren turns to look.

Turnip. They picked the reindeer called Turnip for the winter solstice.

As if on cue, the sun is already setting. She walks up to her elders, and Honeymaren joins in the joik. It’s a sad “song,” as Elsa would call it, but nonetheless optimistic in tone. For Beaivi—the Sun—the blemish-free Turnip would be a worthwhile sacrifice.

When Honeymaren and Ryder wake the next day, they don’t eat. Instead, they pray together, hands on each other’s shoulders.

“You gonna be okay?” Ryder asks as they finish.

Honeymaren nods, but looks away. She leaves their goahti and trusts the bitingly cold air to hold back her tears. In short order the Northuldra line up, facing the forest. But Honeymaren and her mentor, Yelena, mount reindeer and trot into the herd. Together they find Turnip. While Yelena waits at a distance, Honeymaren dismounts.

“Heya! Heyo-a!” she calls. Like a joik, she doesn’t aim to mean anything. But her voice catches Turnip’s attention. She trots up to her, and they touch their foreheads together. “Hey, beautiful. Let’s go on a walk?” Turnip obediently holds still while she loosely lassoes the reindeer, careful to avoid her antlers. Holding the other end of the rope, Honeymaren remounts her steed and returns to Yelena.

The tribe walks behind her and Yelena, as well as blindingly white Turnip. Together they head into the forest. Today, with no sunlight, they make their way to the river. Large blocks of the former dam lead them toward the final steps of their journey. With a full heart, Honeymaren looks at Turnip during their final approach. She returns her look, calm. Surely, the reindeer must know…

Dismounting again at the riverside, Honeymaren yells at her steed, encouraging him to run back to the herd. No one stops him as the reindeer bolts. So does Yelena’s. She turns all her attention to Turnip, even as the tribe forms a horseshoe around them, facing the river. In the middle, Yelena starts to build a fire, speaking to everyone. But Honeymaren coos to the young reindeer, tasked with Turnip's care since before she was even born.

_How is she so calm?_ Honeymaren wonders, petting her cheeks. “You are a good girl,” she whispers to Turnip. “Never doubt that you’ve been such a good girl. I love you so, so much, beautiful girl.”

Yelena walks up behind her and whispers, “It’s time, Honeymaren.”

They both stand tall as another elder steps up to Turnip’s other side. She takes her round to face the tribe. Only then, like every year, does Honeymaren look at the faces of her people, only to see the same guilt-ridden love on their faces. They all know the wretched necessity it is to end a life for life itself to continue.

The custom of the winter solstice lives on. Honeymaren stands at the front, her eyes on Turnip, whose eyes seem to reassure her. _How awful,_ Honeymaren thinks, _that she spends her last moments comforting me._ Just as the firelight dances across her eyes, the elder brings her knife to Turnip’s heart. It is as they had done for generations, long before the mist. Little Turnip dies quickly. Honeymaren hopes it is as painless as it looks, watching her eyes drift closed, her weight dropping. But with a friend’s hand on her shoulder, she’s reminded that the sacrifice is just that: a _sacrifice_. Her people have performed this ritual for eons. As talented as she is with animals, Honeymaren knows that she bears the brunt of the burden, and so hopes more mightily than those around her for Beaivi, creative goddess of all things, the sun to her people. Ancient, thousands year old meaning and wisdom rush through Honeymaren.

“May your strength grow with our sacrifice,” someone prays aloud.

In time, delicate, colorful ribbons emerge from her tribe’s packs, and they wrap Turnip’s cooked meat with as much care as a swaddled baby. Together, they prepare a feast, appreciative of the generosity of the sun and nature, first and foremost. Once blessed by Beaivi, the goddess shares the meal with her people, the Northuldra.

**—Elsa—**

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAY!” Anna shouts from the shore as Elsa and the Nokk approach Arendelle’s castle from the fjord. Elsa delights in Anna’s face greeting her from Elsa’s favorite hidden castle entrance, just below the bridge. The Nokk pulls up short, hindered by the ice forming at the edges of the shore. Elsa dismounts the water spirit. As she turns to leave, he whinnies, shifting anxiously from hoof to hoof. So, she turns back to face his agitation. Her face open and kind, she reaches her palm out to him, and he presses his watery cheek against it. With that, his watery form returns to nature, and she turns once more toward Arendelle.

Just in time, for Anna has rushed up—ignoring the thin ice that Elsa stands upon—to embrace her. Holding her close (and holding her up), Elsa tries to ignore Maren’s face rattling in her memory. With a discreet stomp of her feet, she thickens the ice underfoot, and relinquishes Anna from the hug.

“Anna, it’s so good to see you!”

“Oh Elsa, I missed you!”

“ELSAAAAA!” Olaf shrieks, running at them from the castle.

"Olaf!"

Eventually, they make their way back to the castle, Anna assuring her that this year she's reined in her birthday party plans. Inside over an early breakfast--when Kristoff shows up with Sven in tow and the family reunites in full--only then does Elsa know for sure that her family has in fact grown beyond these walls. As glad as she feels in this embrace, she misses so many others… and wonders what might be entailed in a winter solstice ceremony.

\---

They ring the Christmas bell. They sing carols with the people of Arendelle. They take tables and food and they host a special dinner together for all of Arendelle. They definitely eat too much ham. And lamb. And drink maybe too much Juleøl beer, too. Although only a few years old, the new tradition in Arendelle touches Elsa’s heart. But the people clearly admire Anna as queen in a way she never experienced. For that, Elsa feels grateful.

Like after the autumn festival, her family in Arendelle clings to each other as they walk back toward the castle. This time, Elsa wears the same outfit that (for the most part) she’s worn since first visiting the magical glacial river Athohallen. And on that note—

“Elsa, when did you wash that last?” Anna asks, linking her arm in Elsa’s.

“It’s fine.”

“No. Elsa! You must have worn this dress for at least a month now. We’re having it washed tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow’s Christmas!” Kristoff moans.

“No one should work on Christmas!” he adds as Sven.

“Fine," anna waves a hand at the boys. "Next day.”

“Boxing Day,” Olaf says.

Anna glares at Kristoff playfully. “That’s only in Weseltown!”

“Ah,” her betrothed says, lifting a finger authoritatively. “It’s actually pronounced Weasel-town!” Anna snorts and giggles.

“It’s not that bad.”

“I don’t care about the ice clothes,” Anna rebukes. “I care about hygiene!”

Elsa can’t help but glance up at the crown that her sister wears. “Do I smell?”

“No! No no no no no!”

“That’s a lot of no’s,” Olaf comments, grinning. It’s a contagious one.

“Everybody stop arguing with me," Anna says, flustered. “Just wear something else tomorrow.”

Elsa bristles. “I’ll wear something else tomorrow.”

“Merry Christmas to me!” Anna sings. As they walk through their parents’ library toward the royal chambers, she quirks an eyebrow at the others. “Anyone up for a game of charades?”

A loving hand on her shoulder, Kristoff asks, “How do you have so much energy?”

“It’s Christmas Eve! How can anyone sleep on Christmas Eve??”

Olaf holds Elsa’s hand, gently shakes it. “Will you tuck me in tonight?”

“Of course. Would you like to pick out a story book?” she asks, kneeling down to Olaf’s level. He gleefully chuckles, running toward the books. Kristoff and Anna read the room and wave goodnight, heading on to bed. To Elsa’s surprise, Olaf skips past the children’s picture books that they keep on a low shelf for him. “In the mood for something new tonight?”

Olaf pushes a chair toward the tallest shelves and jumps onto it. “Yeah, I wanted to find that book you told us about in the snow memory!” Elsa walks up beside him, ready to catch should he fall. “But look at all these other great options!” he chirps. One by one, he pulls chapter books out and reads the first page, places it back.

_He keeps growing like a real child,_ Elsa thinks. _I hope he’ll like the toys Maren helped whittle for him._

He squeals with delight. “There it is!”

In the empty shelf space behind a book he just pulled out, a dusty old book with a mermaid stitched into a blue cover leans against the back of the bookcase. Olaf hums happily, seeing his prize. When he reaches for it and pulls, however, several things happen at once. A groaning sound that reminds Elsa of the earth giants. The shelf starts to _move_ sideways. Olaf yelps, dashing off the chair. Elsa raises her hands, frost ready at her fingertips as she steps protectively ahead of him. A small cloud of dust and soot spits out of the open space revealed, covering Elsa’s feet. As well as Olaf's face and body.

As the cloud settles, she and Olaf slowly turn to share a shocked look with each other.

He looks back in front of him and gulps. “Was that an oops?”

“No, Olaf, not an oops. But do go get Anna for me?”

“Yep! Yep, yep, yep!” He totters away, scurrying for the hall, continuing, “—yep yep yep yep!”

While Elsa awaits her sister, she peers into the lightless room, the light behind her insufficient to reach into its depths. A myriad of smells meets her, some she recognizes from her short time in the north. The back of her neck prickles.

It takes longer than expected for Anna to arrive. When she does, she’s still trying to untangle a robe and throw it around her, tripping over the trailing length of it. “Sorry,” she pants, “Olaf walked in on us changing clothes, I think I’ve scarred him forever.” She looks Elsa up and down. “We’re washing that dress tomorrow, I’ll do it myself if I have to.” Looking down at herself, Elsa shrugs, conceding defeat. They turn to face the hidden room together. Elsa shoots a glowing, icy firework into the room, illuminating it for just a moment. Anna’s quick, immediately locating an oil lamp within the room and lighting it.

“Oh my God!” Anna whispers. Elsa gasps too, walking in after her. A whole other library, or perhaps a hidden study, reveals itself to the light. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“What is this place?”

“You don’t know? I don’t know, I assumed you might know.”

Elsa shakes her head, eyes wide. “I do _not_ know.”

“Look at all this stuff!” Anna returns the lamp to a tabletop and starts exploring. Elsa turns toward a desk in the corner. It’s covered in loose papers, crumpled notes, books, journals, drawings. “Whoa!”

“What is it?”

“These books!” Anna whispers. “They’re all about magic. Listen: _The Magic of Memory. Dangers of Dark Arts._ ”

“Magic?” Elsa gasps, putting together her senses. Thick braids of dried grass, whittling tools like Maren has shown her, and—

“Anna!”

“What is it?” She trots over to Elsa’s shoulder.

“Look!” Elsa says, showing her a paper.

“It’s that language! Like we saw—”

“On mother and father’s ship!”

The sisters stare at the script, decidedly more akin to scribbled handwriting. Another clue to what really happened to their parents, what they sought to do. But what do the symbols _mean?_

“Do you think this might be some kind of Northuldrian language?” Elsa asks.

Anna shrugs. “You know the people to ask more than I do. But look at these papers…”

“What about them?”

Anna’s face shines. “I think these are the missing files!”

“The what?”

“The royal library, our parents’ library, even the public library, no one could find _any_ records of Arendelle’s relationship with the Northuldra prior to the mist.”

“Right. Father’s regent expunged them.”

“No, I think these pages must have come from one of these bookshelves, I think they’re the records! Someone must have saved them!” Anna watches Elsa’s face. As stoic as she unintentionally is, Anna has spent the last few years studying Elsa closely. Nothing gets past her nowadays. “Do you think mother might have… been able to save them somehow?”

“Mother?”

“Maybe she,” Anna thinks aloud, “worked for a library or as a government aide or something?”

“A little girl with no parents at the turn of the century did that?” Elsa asks flatly, quirking her brow.

“Augh, I don’t know! Maybe father?”

“But why would he?”

“I don’t know! How is any of this real?” She sounds frustrated, but there’s a look of mirth on Anna’s face; she always loved a mystery.

Considering her little sister for a moment, remembering past Christmas Eves, Elsa queries, “You’ve been looking for these records very hard, haven’t you?” Elsa turns to her and offers a hug.

Anna takes it. “EVERYWHERE! I have looked everywhere! …Or I’ve sent everybody everywhere looking for them.” They separate to keep exploring. “You know all that’s missing is maybe a cauldron or a black cat. Big ol’ black hat. Oo! _Eye of newt!”_

“They clearly had many secrets,” Elsa muses. “We might find those yet.” Anna chuckles. Elsa lingers by the desk and picks up a notebook. Flipping through the pages, her eyes widen. Inside, she sees drawings of herself as a child, her hands, the gloves…!

“Oh! Oh! Your face! What’d you find?” Anna’s voice rumbles low, rubbing her hands together.

“They studied me, too!”

“Wait, what?”

“This is some sort of journal. ‘I can find no record of a human with power like hers but for the ancient myths.’”

“Wait a minute,” Anna interrupts, looking down at the book. “This is mother’s handwriting.

“Do you think,” Elsa looks up, eyes bright, “this was all hers?”

Anna smiles down at the book, then up to Elsa. “Merry Christmas?” She hugs her sister tight.

Elsa rests her head against Anna’s. “Merry Christmas, Anna.”

\---

The Nokk canters across the Dark Sea, and Elsa feels like a part of him. Soon, she’ll have to walk the rest of the way to Athohallen, so she relishes every moment of the ride away from all the people in the world. If she could explain why she felt more akin to Nokk or the giants or Gale or Bruni than to other people, she would start by explaining it to herself. Truth be told, she can’t put to words the nature of their connections as spirits. She only knows her heart softens so in their presence.

Sure enough, Nokk slows his pace to a trot, then stops just short of winter's sea ice. In the distance, Athohallen glows in the starlight as much as the frozen sea water before it. Elsa jumps down to the ice and places a comforting hand to Nokk’s cheek. He’s already irritated, stomping and snorting. “I won’t be long, I promise.” Nonetheless, as she turns toward the island glacier, she hears the sea become choppier behind her, as though he wants to spit water closer to their destination so they can stay together.

With a yelp of glee, she starts running toward her destination. Into the glacier, she rushes, singing to announce her arrival to this place. _Her_ place. _Home_. Finally arriving to its depths, Elsa stops running, starts to focus on her breath. The air around her seems to rattle with each inhale, the ice underfoot swirling to life with her exhale. Although she certainly doesn’t control Athohallen, she’s clearly connected to it in ways she has yet to define. In any case, when she next opens her eyes, snowy figures surround her. And—as she hoped—by focusing on her recent memory of the secret study, she begins to recognize most of the figures are surely memories of her mother, Iduna.

While Anna continues her research in Arendelle, Elsa puts her skills here to use. With a satisfied grin, she sits, letting her focus move from one scene to the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elsa's an ikea demisexual lesbian, prove me wrong.  
> In case it isn't clear, Elsa hasn't figured out that she can ice the Nokk in a friendly way yet.
> 
> Thanks for feedback and welcome!
> 
>   
> \--Special Note--  
> Regarding the winter solstice portion of this chapter, I want to open with if you or someone you know has Sami heritage, reads this portion and sees inaccuracy, please please please message me. 
> 
> Over the last dozen years, I studied religions (in an academic sense) for eight of them years, including a lot of coverage of ancient religious/spiritual practices and some coverage (not nearly as much) of First Nations' spiritual practices over the last few centuries. None of that included the Sami. Also I don't have access to JSTOR and shit like that anymore because fuck the ivory tower.
> 
> So to be honest, I at best put puzzle pieces together based on what details I could find and roughly described bits and pieces of how things might have looked based on my background. Of all aspects of Sami culture, finding background on spirituality was probably the hardest to find and suss out, which really sucks, because we can all blame the Christianity of White Supremacy around about 16th century or earlier for that. (And I say that as a lowkey christian myself.) Any details I added to this part of the chapter--and honestly, to any part of this whole story--that aren't directly based on some reading I've done on the topic, they're based on conjecture from previous studies. But that obvs does not equal accuracy. 
> 
> Hit me up if you know more than I do; I'm happy to do edits in that regard.


	7. Chapter 6—The Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild warning here: if you have previously encountered a bear and that experience ranged from bad to traumatic, maybe skip this one (summary at the end); you can safely read the first section and the third/last section of the chapter though!
> 
> otherwise, teen for language. on the shorter side because that last chapter was long af

**—Chapter 6—The Bear—**

**—Ryder—**

“Mare, please.” Ryder watches his sister’s stubbornness weaken at the sound of their parents’ old nickname for her. _Note to self: Use this mercilessly in the future,_ he thinks. In their goahti, he tries again to hand her a plate overflowing with reindeer jerky, smoked fish, and flatbread. Submitting finally, she weakly accepts the plate. She looks up at him, and her eyes bare stung pride.

“I’m really not that hungry, though,” she insists.

“I know,” he says, still squatting beside her in front of the fire. “But you have to eat anyway. You need your strength. And you deserve it!”

He nudges her, and she begrudgingly takes some bites. Satisfied that she will finish the whole plate, he pulls out some jerky for himself and sits. Watching her eat, he takes stock. Despite her annual winter sadness, it occurs to him that Honeymaren actually looks better than ever. Sure, her braid looks disheveled, but her arms fill her sleeves like never before. In fact, she looks like she’s about to bust seams of her tightly fitted clothing. _Hm,_ he ponders, _Honeymaren hates sewing. I could probably make something new for her. But she’d make a whole thing about it. I have a hard enough time getting her to accept help feeding her._ Only then does it occur to him that lately, he himself struggles with his shirt most days, like it’s too tight to move around as easily as before the end of the mist.

_We must be eating better._ That thought, at least, reassures him. Anytime Honeymaren stops eating for too long, he taps her, until the plate is finally empty. “Thanks for doing that, Mare,” he says through a mouthful of jerky.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

He leans forward to take her plate from her and offer a small kiss to the crown of her head. “And I like you.”

“That’s poor judgment.”

Standing with the plate over a large basin of water, he takes a cup of the water to pour over the plate and gently wash it. “The things I do for love!”

She lays back on the pelts, stretching. “What are you up to today?” 

“Since I won’t be making reindeer voices for you?”

“ _At_ me, is more like it.”

Ryder takes the plate and places it near enough the fire to start to dry. “I was going to do some foraging in the forest. We’re not super familiar with the lichen supply out on this plain, and I want to make sure we have some kind of back up for the reindeer.”

Honeymaren leans back up, resting on her elbows, and fixing her rueful eyes upon him. “You mean because we’re not sure how this winter’s going to go after all.”

Ryder did mean that. He had hoped his sister wouldn’t take offense, but he also knew she knows how his mind works. He bites his lip. “Hey, look. I’m really sorry that she’s been gone so long.”

“A whole month, Ryder!” Honeymaren croaks, thrusting her arms in the air like a toddler. She falls back again, and indeed she looks akin to her days as a petulant child. “More than that, actually.”

“I know.”

“It’s so, so long,” she groans. “We don’t even know if Elsa’s okay or if something happened!”

“I think she’s probably safe,” Ryder says for the millionth time, all his patience reserved for her. He sits down next to his sister, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But Honeymaren,” he says purposefully, “you gotta let this go. If she’s been staying in Arendelle for all this time, it’s her choice. And Elsa wouldn’t stay there without a good reason.”

Though she doesn’t move away from his touch, she looks away from him. Her mouth twitches in that way, when she doesn’t agree with him and is debating whether to fight or hold her tongue. Still, Ryder catches sight of moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Do you think,” Honeymaren starts, and the quiver in her voice strikes his heart straight through, “that I… offended her?”

“No,” he says. “You offend everyone equally.” A choked laugh responds. She yanks her arm away from him, cradling her own face. “Mare…”

“I gotta go to the reindeer,” she says, rolling away from him. She heads toward the door, putting her boots on. No tears fall, and she suppresses the choked voice.

_I’ll take what I can get_. “Okay,” Ryder says. “I’ll see you tonight?”

She nods, but doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

\---

The sun has returned as promised. She’s not around as much as when Ryder first saw the sky, but the sun’s appearances bring him as much joy as a lover’s visits. And during the hours that the sun graces his skin with its light, he makes sure to be as present as a lover.

_Ooo, that’s an idea_. Ryder ponders the image of a sun-woman lover, and if that means that a moon-lover would be a man or woman or someone else entirely. It’s a pleasant enough fantasy to occupy his mind while searching for lichen in the places he knew so well in the days of the mist. Granted, without the mist, everything looks a little strange and finding his way takes longer than he expected. Maybe he should have brought a reindeer, at least for company… "Oh, moon-Kristoff!" Ryder says to himself. That totally makes sense, a moon person would totally have weird pale skin! It's kinda pretty, Ryder thinks. At least, Elsa makes it seem pretty, especially when she's walking around the snow in starlight, just like the mythical witches and spirits from stories his parents told. But as satisfying a fantasy as it is, Ryder knows he's ready to move on. Crush crushed.

He works his way toward the old dam. The Northuldra have avoided those grounds largely to respect nature’s process of reclaiming the land that had been forced into becoming a manmade lake. That land already had consent robbed from it when the river was dammed, and to look upon the land before she can offer herself seems distasteful, at least to Ryder. Plus, bad things happened there… He turns northeast before he gets too close.

Over time, he begins to notice new tracks. Pawprints of all kinds crisscross the snow draped forest. Ryder tries to commit them each to memory, for some of these tracks are entirely new to him. Certainly, it makes sense to him that creatures might have been locked out of this forest, but so many?! Even tracks of birds’ feet and the shapes their wings made in snow when taking flight… Could there be new birds around in winter?? He certainly didn’t hear any birds. Then again, no one could hear as well as Honeymaren. Maybe Ryder should have brought her along, force her to do that thing she does around animals where she suddenly is _responsible_ for them. In any case, the tracks follow alongside his path toward the few places where he knew lichen could grow despite years of sunlight-dimming mists. 

Because if Elsa really isn’t coming back, he wasn’t going into this new era without a backup plan.

Sure enough, a bird hidden in the snow bursts out, startled by Ryder and startling him in return.

“Aagh! What the heck is that?! No!” Suddenly he’s tumbling, he can’t stop, downhill through the snow and trees, none of them enough to stop him along the way down yet somehow enough that he can already feel bruises forming. He's picking up speed. Then he flies briefly. And drops. The abrupt stop knocks the air out of him. Ryder groans painfully, face down in snow at the bottom of the hill. With what feels like every ounce of strength left in him, after an extended period of time catching his breath, he glances around him. Nearby, he hears the river flowing under ice. From where he lays, he can’t even see up the whole way he fell.

“Okay, Ryder… you can do this…” With a deep breath, Ryder turns onto his side. Wheezing, he tells himself, “Back’s good enough.” Still on his side, he wiggles his toes on each foot, then his fingers. “Ah, thank you!” Bit by bit, he tests all his limbs. It all hurts but it all works. Then he takes slow breaths, listening as best he can to his insides. He’s seen the insides of enough dead bodies to know there’s stuff connecting his guts to his brain, and he’d really like to know if those guts are damaged. But a strange grunt meets his ears. All the hairs on Ryder’s body stand on end. Eyes wide, he turns, slowly bends his neck backward, afraid of what he'll find.

He’s heard stories about them. He’s heard myths. The elders told him again and again and again about the foe, the wise fool, the powerful predator, the kind yet cruel creature. He knows what he beholds immediately, even having never seen one ever before.

_Bear!_

It must be a brown bear—it doesn’t have the straight muzzle of the polar bears he’s heard about. His mind races through the stories he grew up on. Polar bears kill because they kill. They fucking enjoy it. Meanwhile, Brown bears are as sacred as they are horrifying. Yet for some reason, this one is all white. As auspicious as that detail probably is, it only adds to the freakiness of the lumbering giant surrounded by ice and snow, lumbering his way. But this thing is so _big!_ Bigger than he even imagined growing up around earth giants.

Ryder’s pulse rings in his ears, faster and faster, louder even than the grunts and footfalls of the approaching adversary. _How is it awake? It’s still winter!_ The thought crosses his mind that his fall might have roused the bear from a den. Too late. Slowly and shaking, Ryder starts to roll back over onto his stomach, moving his aching, scraped hands over the back of his neck. Screws his eyes shut. With every breath he can hear the white grizzly approach, closer and closer.

_Do bears eat lichen?_

Even facing a bunch of snow, he can’t help but brace himself against the ground below when he hears the bear’s enormous claws click. Wait click? He realizes, the claws are so long, they reach through the snow on this riverbed down to the pebbles below. Hot, moist air pumps against the back of Ryder’s head, his hands, his upper back. The bear moves around him, sniffs, nudging him with his snout. A whimper traps itself in Ryder’s throat. If he ever felt this scared in any other circumstance, Ryder's sure he would vomit.

Pressure. The bear’s paw presses down against his back, pushing gently considering the weight behind it. And that weight is so much. Ryder feels his body dig down into the snow under that weight, his face pressed hard against the pebbles of the riverbed. Hot breath still covers the back of his head, crosses over his whole body to his feet, and still the paw remains. Something Honeymaren told him once rushes back to him: People can breathing best by expanding the diaphragm, but sometimes people breathe by lifting their shoulders instead. Despite the bear, Ryder takes a shrugs his shoulders and gets in a shallow breath. For what _feels_ like hours, the bear presses against him, the tips of the claws cutting into and through his clothes. Every tiny, strained breath he can squeeze out, Ryder waits for the slightest turn of the paw so that the enormous claws might dig into his flesh and turn him inside out.

But the weight lifts. Ryder listens to the bear leave, shaking more than ever as he feels the warm sunlight fall beyond a horizon he can’t see. Slowly the bear moves further down the riverbank. Besides his shaking, Ryder stays where he lays, face down, afraid that perhaps the bear waits just out of his hearing range, sure that the creature knows he bluffed.

“Hey.”

With a gasp, he unlinks his fingers, pushes himself up at the gentle touch of a hand.

“Elsa!”

“Hi,” Elsa says, sparkling in the starlit sky behind her. She smiles at him awkwardly. “Sorry, I was taking the scenic route home and saw you. I didn’t want to interrupt if you were praying or… Are you okay?”

Ignoring the aches from his fall and whatever the fuck just happened, Ryder leaps up, pulling Elsa into his embrace. Tears stream down his face. “Elsa! Elsa, Elsa!”

Stiff at first, Elsa slowly embraces him in return. “Ryder… are you _not_ okay?” They separate as Elsa looks at one of her hands that had been on his back. “Your back is really warm. Do you feel ill?”

“Huh?”

\---

A search party full of torches approach as Ryder and Elsa, his arm slung over her shoulder, finally reach the forest’s Gate and the village beyond. 

“Ryder!”

“Are you okay?”

“Elsa?? Welcome back!”

“What happened?”

“RYDER!” That voice is unmistakable. As Honeymaren runs through the parting crowd, Ryder welcomes her crashing into him. He breathes her in, that woodsy scent that always feels like home. When she pulls away, and not a moment sooner, he remembers all his many bruises. But it seems he’s not the sole subject of Honeymaren’s attention.

“Elsa?”

The relaxed young woman who walked Ryder home disappears. He feels Elsa’s grip on his arm tighten up. Frost grows on his sleeve. “Elsa!” he whispers. She grimaces; her apology. Ryder closes his eyes so she doesn't see him roll his eyes.

The ice disappears with a sharp inhale. “Hi, Honeymaren.”

“Where have you been?”

“I… um…”

Ryder openly rolls his eyes at them both now. “Saving me, obviously.”

“What?” Honeymaren asks, looking between them. “We’ve been looking everywhere. What happened to you?”

“I’ll tell you the whole story,” he says, placing a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “In the morning. I am so, so tired.”

Honeymaren’s hands find his face. The siblings share a long look, Honeymaren’s richly brown eyes washing over Ryder’s blue. A breath he didn’t know he was holding sighs out of him. With that, his sister turns to Elsa. In contrast, Elsa shifts uncomfortably under the softness of Honeymaren’s gaze, can’t hold it in return.

_Oh, you gotta be shitting me._

“Thank you, Elsa.” She motions toward Ryder’s arm. “May I?”

“How ‘bout you just take the other side?”

She smirks up at him. “Ever the peacemaker.”

“That’s me!” Ryder says, Honeymaren taking position under his other arm. “Plus,” he continues, “now I can do this!” He lifts his legs off the ground, and his weight brings Elsa first and then Honeymaren down into a pile of snow underneath them. The gathered Northuldra laugh, relieved, along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> middle section: Ryder goes into the forest, falls down a hill and encounters an albino bear (brown/grizzly, to be specific). No maiming occurs, but the bear pushes down on his chest forcefully for an extended period. The bear eventually loses interest, and that's when Elsa shows up.
> 
> side notes: y'all there are so many bear stories and traditions and things among the Sami. I didn't have the heart to do a sacred bear hunt story because Ryder, if we're all honest, would not stand a chance. BUT it is a really interesting! worth learning about!


	8. Chapter 7—Cracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If drowning or hypothermia are issues for you, maybe skip the section after the break (summary at the bottom).  
> Otherwise T for language.

**—Chapter 7—Cracks—**

**—Honeymaren—**

Despite the fact that Honeymaren rubs Ryder’s back every day with the elders’ concoction of medicinal herbs and churned reindeer fat, the paw mark from the bear remains.

“Still there?” Ryder asks, shivering with his shirt off.

“Yup,” she replies, “and still warm. Not as warm as yesterday though. How big was this bear again? This pawmark is as big as you are.”

“I didn’t get a good look. I was focusing on keeping my skin on.” For his sarcasm, she reaches over his shoulder and dabs his nose with lotion. “Ah yuck! Mare!”

She cackles.

“Aw come on, you know this shit smells awful!” Ryder wipes the lotion off his nose then looks for a way to get it off his hand.

“I know way better than you do how this shit smells,” Honeymaren says.

He huffs. Sarcastically, he replies, “Thank you, sister.”

“You are welcome. And all done.” As he reaches for his shirts, Honeymaren covers the smelly jug of medicine and hangs it from an antler hook. She turns to see him pondering.

“You know, I think the bear was about as big as our goahti.”

“That’s impossible,” Honeymaren says, tossing him another outer layer. “I think this was actually one of those, whatever they’re called… a polar bear.”

“Nope.” Ryder shakes his head, brow furrowed. “Definitely not.”

“Are you sure?”

Ryder nods, “I was there.”

“You said you didn’t get a good look.”

“Were you there?” By the time he gets his head through the neck of the thick winter shirt his sister passed him, she’s staring into nothingness again. Noticing his look after a moment, she brushes a loose lock of her hair back behind her ear and busies herself. Or pretends to. But he’s already walking toward her, so she rushes away to the door, yanking her boots on.

“It’s going to be a busy day!” she proclaims, reading his expression.

“Doing what?”

She wracks her brain for words. “… Uh… fishing.”

“Ice fishing?”

“Yep!”

“And that won’t include walking up to Elsa’s goahti, standing there like an ass for an hour, and angrily walking away like—”

Honeymaren can’t stand it. She glares over her shoulder and her face stops Ryder’s lips tight. Then she realizes her eyes sting and she looks away again, crushing her elbows down on her knees, fists in her hair.

“Mare.” Ryder’s voice is sweet. She hears him step toward her and clumsily trip on a pelt on the way. _Always falling._ An arm wraps around her shoulder. “Mare, you’ve never been like this. What’s going on?”

“Ryder, I…” she starts, at least letting her arms down now that tears don’t bud like flowers at her eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,” he says gently, as always. “But it’s hard for the people who love you to see you… struggle. I don’t even know what with!”

“Oh, you don’t?” Honeymaren teases, but her voice strains. It comes out like she’s laughing to keep from crying. Which she is. “Pretty sure you were about to say something just now.” She continues putting the shoes on, glaring at them.

Since Ryder and Elsa walked out of the forest, Honeymaren has felt out of sorts. In her absence, Honeymaren could pretend to feel mad at Elsa. Or pretend to not care. Really, she feels hurt and lonely, despite the return of her friend’s companionship. What companionship she allows. Repeatedly, Elsa attempts to begin anew, and just as often, Honeymaren retreats. Even when she thinks perhaps today, she’s herself again, today she can speak to Elsa like they had before, she loses her nerve. And then she has no choice but to face Ryder again at the end of another day.

She can’t pretend or deny how she feels about Elsa, not now that she's returned, glowing in moonlight. Clearly, though, Honeymaren’s not ready. Her usual calm and courage seem to have abandoned her, and she can’t deny the confusion and hurt Elsa must be feeling.

Ryder interrupts her thoughts. “You’ve tied those boots about five times, Mare.”

“…Oh.”

“Hold on, though, wait.” Ryder retreats into their home and returns with one of his shirts and a winter coat of his. “Put this on.”

“What?” Honeymaren pulls a face at him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he says, and she can see in his eyes all his failed attempts at wooing girls _and_ boys. Her eyelids droop, waiting to be offended. “It’s just that since the mist fell, everyone’s… healthier!”

“Healthier.”

“Healthier!” he says, smiling too much.

“I don’t care if I’m fat.”

“Oh no! I mean, good! Wait, why would you care?” Honeymaren grins at successfully distracting him. “No, stop! Stop! Look, I-I-I just mean it’s obvious to literally everyone that you’re too… big…”

“Huh?”

“Muscular, you’re muscular-er.”

Her face remains dangerously deadpan; she knows that Ryder can’t tell what to expect of her when she does this. And she wants to see where this goes.

“Which,” he continues, maintaining eye contact, but nervously fiddling at his own hair, “is what everyone is these days… because everyone’s eating better and that’s good…”

“Get to the point.”

“Mare, your shirts don’t fit,” he finally sighs.

“Oh.”

He pushes his shirt, folded and clean, toward her again. “Until we make you new ones, can you wear one of mine? I don’t want you cold out there.” It’s such an awkward, sweet gesture.

“Guess your force-feedings worked out.”

\---

The sun shines bright on her shoulders. Honeymaren can’t help but smile. This time, today, she decides that she really will go ice fish. With the sun gracing her people more and more each day—more than ever before—she can’t resist that promise of plenty. On her tail follow “the twins,” Ailu and Suanjar, young teens of the tribe. They can’t be more than twelve summers old, though Honeymaren thinks she might have lost count. In any case, their father could _not_ keep them from bothering the reindeer, so Honeymaren has taken them off his hands.

“Okay you two,” Honeymaren calls back behind her as the twins throw snowballs at each other. She keeps walking, albeit backwards so she can watch them. But at her beckon, they rush to her side. “It’s getting warmer, yeah? So, we have to be careful.”

“I dunno that I would call this warmer,” Suanjar says.

“Yeah I’m still pretty cold,” agrees Ailu.

“Hush, look up.” They obey. Pure blue sky meets their eyes. “The sun is a blessing, but it weakens ice that we’re used to being sturdy and strong this time of year.” As an example, Honeymaren tosses a rock toward their left. Just over the edge of a ledge—a tiny rocky edge to the river they’ve known their whole lives, not even a meter above water’s edge—they hear a splash! Jogging over, the twins peer down at the river.

Honeymaren walks up behind them. “The mist used to shield our waters from sunlight. Now she can melt the ice and the snow on top that might have kept it thicker for longer.” Sure enough, the rock sits at the bottom of the shallow water, visible through a new hole in the ice. “That ice is greyish-white, see? It’s too porous. Let’s find a better spot, hm?”

“Right!”

“Right!”

Together, Honeymaren leads them downriver and veers off at an easy crossing—an obviously man-made bridge to the eyes of the Northuldra, but never noticed by the soldiers during the years in the mist. Not a mile beyond there, the trio reaches the ocean.

“Look at that,” Honeymaren says with a smile. The ocean still has thick ice, a landscape unto itself. It’s nothing as clear and clean as Elsa’s creations, but Honeymaren is far more familiar with this kind of ice. She spreads her legs wide, shortening herself for her younger, shorter company to see her eye-to-eye. “See how blue it is? How clear? That’s ice we can trust a bit better.”

“Only a bit?” Ailu asks, eyes widening incredulously.

With a bit of chagrin, Honeymaren licks her lips. The freezing air rewards her immediately with chapping pain. “Never trust ice entirely. And never face it alone.”

As promised, Honeymaren offers the twins an important role: They tie rope around her waist and ground it to the shore. She takes the first steps, and they follow in her exact footsteps at a distance. With an excess of caution, she shows them the basic steps of selecting a safe place to fish from atop the ice, how to safely set up a fire and shelter for longer trips. Their plan doesn’t include that kind of thing today, but she feels impulsively responsible for the future of her people's children. Plus, it feels good to put detailed attention to something else today. Even if it means trying to keep twelve-year-olds entertained while cutting a hole in ice more than thick enough to support their combined weights.

Hours later, a few large fish sit in their basket. Ailu takes a turn holding the fishing pole when Suanjar stands up, pointing. “Hey look!”

Honeymaren follows their finger’s trajectory. Peering against the sunlight of the day, slowly beginning its descent toward the horizon, Honeymaren sees the figure of—

“The Nokk!”

The water spirit trots so far off that Honeymaren knows he must be on open waters. But not far behind him, a distinctly human figure follows along. Walking on the still sea waters. Literally. And even then, something else surfaces from the ocean just beyond them. An earth spirit, swimming? No…

“What is that, Honeymaren?” Suanjar asks.

“I think it’s a whale!” she replies, voice hushed. Then, just to shock her further it seems, one of the earth spirits _does_ surface, looking rather like a giant frog, closer to shore to the north.

“What are they doing?” Ailu holds the fishing pole awkwardly.

Although so far away, Honeymaren can see Elsa. She moves so freely, powerfully. If she’s not mistaken, Honeymaren can just make out singing. It occurs to her that she has _never_ seen Elsa move like that up close. Not at all in the six months that Elsa’s resided in the north. Here and now, she moves like a spirit, dancing like Bruni’s flames. And that dress finally makes a little more sense.

“They’re playing. The spirits are playing together.”

The twins share a smile.

Honeymaren’s eyes remain fixed on Elsa, yet her mind wanders to memory: the delight Elsa laughed into her when Honeymaren straddled her in their tickling match. An all too familiar pang tugs at her heart, made sharper by the fact that she knows she is _not_ supposed to see this moment.

Until her eyes snap back to the present.

Directly in front of her, maybe three or four meters ahead, Suanjar is shuffling in Elsa’s direction.

“Stop!” Honeymaren yells, wide-eyed. “What are you doing?!”

“It’s a whale!” they say, as if that makes everything obvious. “We gotta get a closer look!” With that, they start shuffling again.

Ailu cries, “It’s not safe!”

“Stay here!” Honeymaren instructs worried Ailu. Assured by their nodding, she stands up fully. Sure enough, that little jerk can’t see what they’re shuffling toward. “Stop moving!” She shouts again, “You’re headed for thin ice!”

“But you showed us the blue ice thing!” Suanjar objects. Just then, they place their foot into something wet. Looking down, wet slush greets Suanjar’s ankles, and they gasp at its chill. They hadn’t seen it behind a frozen crag. “H—Honeymaren? What do I do?”

“Don’t move,” she instructs calmly, walking carefully toward them.

That’s when they all hear the crack.

In mere seconds, Honeymaren tears off her brother’s coat and the rope still tied around it, kicks off her boots as she sprints, ignoring everything she’s been taught over years in the traitorous mists. Chittering in her ears, Gale propels her forward with unimaginable speed. Her hat’s long gone. Even as the sound of the awful grating crack becomes deafening, she uses all her strength to shove the child across the ice, back to the safety she has abandoned. Instantly, before her fingers even leave their back, Honeymaren tumbles back into the coldest embrace.

_Shit!_

Nerves electrify. Skin tightens, shrieks. Honeymaren’s body reacts involuntarily, constricting blood vessels in an effort to escape the searing void of heat. Her heart suddenly feels strained, as though she had climbed a mountain into thinnest air. Contrary to every instinct, though, she fights her urge to gasp and panic. Instead she convulses against the shock until she holds still.

Sure enough, buoyancy pulls her up.

Without opening her eyes, light grows behind her lids. Finally, horrible freezing air meets her skin, and Honeymaren pulls in a desperate breath.

In the distance, she hears the twins cry out for her.

“You okay?” she shouts, already shivering. She can’t get her head up enough to see past the ice around her. The hole’s she fallen into is bigger than she expected. And the kids keep crying. “Hey! Tell me a joke!” _If they don’t, then we’re all fucked._

Through blubbering tears, she hears a weak response. “What do you call a tick on the moon?”

“T—tell a better joke, Ailu!”

Gale blows around her. But as much as the water sloshes, the wind spirit can’t pull the young woman up out of it. Honeymaren swims toward ice that looks sturdy. She can’t get a good grip on it though, can’t reach up high enough, and she realizes as she kicks to tread water that this ice won’t be thick enough to support her weight anyway. The water around her obstructs her view, splashing into her mouth and face. Her heart pounds in her ears, despite trying her best to remain calm.

Desperate, she treads over to another side of the pool. This time Honeymaren gets a grip and starts to lift herself.

“Honeymaren!” Suanjar sobbed.

“S—stay b-b—back!” She manages to get her hand on top of the ice, but her clothes are so heavy even without Ryder’s thick winter coat to top his shirt. In a separate corner of her mind, she takes note of her bare feet not hurting as much—a bad sign. Again, she tumbles off the ice, unable to pull herself up, even with the strong upward push of Gale around her. But she keeps trying, again and again in just a few short minutes. Each time Honeymaren only seems to widen the break in the ice. _Too long in the water…_

Panting. Sun setting. Weakening. So cold.

She shakes her head a little, lets her eyes fall down to the water around her. The exhaustion rolls over Honeymaren.

Deep below her, a little blue light, no two, approach… fast! A water beast with glowing eyes launches up into her, knocking her breath out instantly—the Nokk! With force Honeymaren can barely comprehend, the horse-like spirit headbutts her into the air and—“FUCK!”— she lands with formless water splashing atop her, safely on thick, sturdy ice.

Now she can’t help it. Honeymaren desperately tries to pull in air, scrunches up her whole body, shaking violently. Hands land on her back. They turn her over. Between the twins, Elsa. They’re all saying things to her, but nothing she can understand over the rushing in her ears. She feels Elsa’s hand on hers, only barely, and sees her point and give instructions to the twins. They run off, and Elsa stands. Rolling to her side, Honeymaren sees Elsa—also barefoot—take steps toward the pool. As if called, the Nokk leaps onto the surface of the water. _Fuck_ , Maren thinks, realizing that the top of the safe ice she now lays on is so high above the waterline that she can’t even see the Nokk’s legs from here.

Her thoughts cease when she sees Elsa touch a hand to the antsy Nokk’s face, then touch their foreheads together. With a vibrant glow, the water spirit takes solid form. He springs into the air, lands on the ice shelf. As if full of wonder himself, he darts and bucks, spins and kicks. Meanwhile, Elsa comes back into view.

“We’ll come back for yout things later,” she says. As if Honeymaren cares at this point about her fish or gear.

Ever so briefly, the Nokk seems angry when Elsa looks to him expectantly. But if he protests, he stops for her sake, and he bows.

“Come on, Honey—” Elsa grunts, hooking her arms under Honeymaren’s armpits and locking them over her chest. She tries to stand for herself, but even she can see her legs tremble, kicking weakly. Giving up, she groans when she’s pulled onto the Nokk and rolled first onto her stomach, then turned such that she gets a mouthful of Nokk-mane-slushie. Elsa mounts him behind Maren, arms on either side of Honeymaren to keep her up. The Nokk stands quickly, and Honeymaren’s thrown up into a sitting position, falling back into Elsa’s torso.

“Elsa…”

“Hold on, Honeymaren.” Elsa presses her forehead to the back of Honeymaren’s skull. The slight contact feels like a burning flame to Honeymaren.

The Nokk yanks them forward, so suddenly that Honeymaren thinks her breath has been knocked out of her again. It occurs to her that riding the Nokk when he doesn’t like her might not result in a fate much better than hypothermia. Nonetheless, Elsa plants her forehead against the back of Honeymaren’s neck, somehow directing the Nokk blindly through sheer will. Honeymaren’s body jostles on the Nokk’s back, but Elsa’s little arms are surprisingly steady. As much as the steed clearly protests, a simple touch from Elsa’s hand calms him instantly. Still, Honeymaren’s so tired… she trusts in Elsa, leans back fully into her with exhaustion, tries to turn to look into her ice-blue eyes, say something…

At first, Honeymaren blinks slowly because they seem to immediately be slowing down. _Did we beat the twins home?_ Then she sees Ailu and Suanjar pulling others toward them through the trees. Terror hits her then, realizing she must have lost consciousness during the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short version: Non-binary twins in the tribe, Suanjar and Ailu, are tempted onto weak ice by the sight of Elsa playing with a whale. (It's a whale, who could blame them?) But in saving their skins, Honeymaren falls through the ice instead. And Elsa recovers her, with the Nokk's begrudging help. Yay first ice-Nokk! We'll see if Honeymaren's saved next time.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and questions welcome!


	9. Chapter 8—Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder, Cheat code: --- is a change of scene, *** refers to a dream, +++ refers to a flashback
> 
> THERE IS ANGST! Both implied and directly remembered. If Elsa's past brings up trauma responses for you, I advise against reading the italicized flashback (or at least having a friend preview it first). In any case, there will be a simple summary in the end notes. 
> 
> Language and content borders on mature.

**—Chapter 8—Memory—**

**—Elsa—**

“What happened?!” Yelena shouts ahead to her, still running toward them. Elsa quickly dismounts the Nokk and catches Maren, who’s already slipping off into her arms. Seeing the water spirit made solid, the villagers pull up. Elsa knows that they’ve never seen him up close like this, but she doesn’t have time to explain.

“I don’t know myself,” she says, dismissing Nokk. He gives her the slightest glare, but turns back the way he came. It does look like he’s enjoying this new icy form, at least. “I came upon them after Honeymaren fell through ice.”

Yelena nods, her lips thin and her face pale. “Come!” A sturdy married couple—Nasti and her husband, Vallju—relieves Elsa of Maren's weight, gently carry shivering Maren into the nearest goahti. The two children from earlier run off, she hopes to find Ryder. Elsa struggles to remember their names, but recalls being told not to use “he’s” or “she’s” around either of them. She follows the couple carrying Maren, Yelena, and another woman, an elder, into Yelena's home.

“Slowly, slowly,” Yelena instructs, moving them toward the fire. She looks the other woman, heavier set with dark but greying hair. “Get her out of these clothes, right, Girste?”

The woman nods. “Immediately! But move her as little as possible!” Yelena, Girste, and the younger Nasti quickly assess the droopy eyed young woman, then pull out knives. Swiftly, Elsa turns around, finding herself in the company of Vallju, the only man present. He smiles encouragingly at her. Someone calls for her though, and she obeys, tucking back her hair shyly as she turns back. They hurriedly hand her the wet clothes, cut from Honeymaren’s skin to keep from jostling her. Eyes transfixed at the half-frozen garments in her hands, she steps outside to drop them in the snow when she sees him.

“Ryder!” she beams with relief. 

However, he marches up to her with a frightful look to his face. Elsa’s never known Ryder to become angry. “Let me in!” Elsa follows him back inside with her eyes as others approach; The twins huddle nearby, watching Elsa as though they doubt bringing Ryder was the right thing to do after all. She instinctively raises a palm in their direction to reassure them both before ducking back inside. But he’s shouting something when Elsa gets back through the door. “—nd not know how in the world this happened?!”

“Frankly, Ryder, shut up!” Yelena roars back, hair falling in her face. The others bring soft furs closer to the fire, awkwardly avoiding the fight. “I know less than _you_ do if you got to hear anything from the twins!” Elsa tenses immediately, longs to bolt like a hare. Until she sees Maren, surrounded by the others. Time seems to slow down around Elsa, her heart sinking from her throat back down into her stomach at the look of Maren’s pained brow, the tinge of blue to her lips despite the warm glow of the fire reflecting off of them.

Yelena’s strained voice brings her back to the present. “Now either be useful, or if you must yowl like that, get out!”

His blue eyes simmer, his fists balling up. They catch each other’s glance. “She’s my sister!” he growls. Elsa can hear the tiniest crack in his voice. Yelena raises an arm to point toward the door, but Elsa puts her hand out to him, palm up.

“Ryder,” she says quietly. “She fell through ice. That’s all.”

She can see how angry he wants to be, and he seems ready to rebut loudly when an even tinier voice squeaks behind him.

“It’s my fault.” One of the children: Suanjar.

Ryder barely contains a hiss. “What?”

“She was just trying to show us ice-fishing. We saw a whale… It was an accident. She saved me.”

“And on that note,” Yelena interrupts, much more softly, “Kiddo—go home to your parents. This isn’t your fault. And Ryder—” He turns back to her as the kid scampers away, wiping at tears. “If you start shit, better be able to finish it. Or do you know how to take care of her?” Yelena even motions for the others to stop repositioning Maren, two pelts covering her torso, onto a makeshift bed.

Ryder’s anger stays—Elsa can see it in his eyes—but his ignorance makes itself obvious, even to him. “Blankets?”

“Where?”

He huffs, his arms tense. Elsa's heart races, watching Yelena's anger itself exercise patience. She doesn't know what to do either, but the lack of activity around Maren very much disturbs her.

“Not on her arms or legs,” Yelena says, shaking her head slowly as she sits down in front of the fire herself. “Or would you like to see her die of a heart attack as freezing blood hits her heart?” Ryder looks at the floor, inscrutable. Although Elsa longs to reach out and comfort him, she refrains. Her respect for Yelena holds her back. But she doesn’t let up. “Does that sound familiar, Ryder?” He balks, grimacing as if in pain. Her voice cracks. "You think I have not been through this before, you fool?" The others in the room look away, wide-eyed, unable to watch.

"Yelena," he squeaks, clears his throat, lowers an octave, "I didn't mean..."

Finally, he’s dismissed: “We’ll talk tomorrow, Ryder.”

As he storms out, Yelena turns to Nasti and Vallju with a sigh of exhaustion. “Let’s get to work.”

Elsa rushes to Maren's side. The others bring a kettle to boiling and pour the hot water into bladder bags. Once sealed, they press the bags to Maren’s neck and the side of her ribs. From there, they layer blankets atop her torso, leaving her limbs bare. Girste, the woman in charge, instructs Elsa to stay by Maren’s head to watch out for sweat of any kind: “She must stay dry!”

“Maybe monitor her pulse as well?” Vallju suggests.

Elsa places her fingers where they point, around the corner of Maren’s jaw from her ear. That’s when an idea comes to her. “I might be able to try something.” They all turn to look at her. Their faces… not disbelieving per se but definitely flummoxed. “I have to help somehow!”

Soft gazes wash over her. “Elsa,” Yelena says softly, almost motherly.

Nasti kneels and rest a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. “You saved her life already, Elsa. She’ll get through this. It’s just a process of doing the right things at the right time now.”

Girste adds, “And she really must stay dry.”

With as much sadness as her stoic nature can allow, Elsa nods. The space within Yelena’s home continues with cramped activity. Replacing the hot water vessels, checking Maren’s core temperature against that of her limbs, watching for any signs of frostbite or warming up too quickly. The process—as her elder, Girste, explains—takes a painfully long time. Of the attendants, Nasti and Vallju decide to leave for the night first. A while later, Yelena dismisses Girste as well.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” Yelena announces. Elsa doesn’t move from kneeling, Maren’s head in her lap. “I’d prefer to only have to keep watch on the one patient.”

Elsa lifts her face confused, turns to Yelena with a question clearly written across her face. To that, Yelena can only raise a palm to her forehead and shake her head back and forth, resigned. “Please go home, Elsa.”

“Oh. Can I at least… try?”

Yelena sighs. “Only if you go home after this, all right? I did not have enough coffee today for this.”

Elsa smiles, all too familiar with the feeling. She motions for Yelena, and the exhausted woman humors her, taking her place as Maren’s pillow. From Honeymaren’s side, Elsa reaches her hand down, then stops. Her mind races for a split second, a series of unexpected, shifting feelings rushing through her body. With a deep breath, she continues her trajectory. Hopefully Yelena doesn’t see her fingers tremor, alighting her palm on Maren’s sternum, barely above where her breasts start their swell. Closing her eyes just happens. Otherwise the unfamiliar feelings might outrun her focus.

Inside, Elsa conjures a memory. Like pulling a string out from the back of her skull, it comes before her closed eyes, flooding her with so much more. Feelings of fear, vulnerability, but an excitement, too. Relief at Anna’s life and her own, continuing despite all odds. Hope to possibly, finally, experience freedom. 

So many asked her to just “bring back summer,” but that wasn’t how it happened. Not how it _works_. Elsa had to find herself under all her own defenses to channel love. The very process of unveiling herself, showing her true power, and—however imperfectly, fits and stops and backtracking included—letting go of shame… _that_ was the only way to dig the love out.

She exhales, letting her powers flow. Pulls the cold instead of pushing it. Yelena gasps quietly, but Elsa remains unmoved. _Focus… breathe…_ When the chest beneath her hand stirs, breathing deeply, Elsa allows herself to open her eyes. Maren stirs under the blankets, shifting and stretching. Ever so slightly, her eyes open.

“Uoh fuck, I feel like shit,” Maren groans weakly, turn her head slightly to the side. “Elsa?”

A hand grips Elsa’s shoulder tightly. Yelena gives her a little shake. They look at each other, and Yelena smiles broadly and nods, waterlogged eyes looking back and forth between her and the patient. “That’ll work!”

“Hi, Honeymaren,” Elsa responds at last. Maren nods up slightly in greeting, then looks down at herself as best as she can, scrunching her chin into her neck. Her eyes flash between the hand at her chest and Elsa’s smile. “Oh! Sorry!” Taking the hint, Elsa removes her hand. But her smile stays. She excuses herself from Yelena’s goahti, leaves with a contented sigh.

\---

Finding Ryder proves less difficult than anticipated. He may lack a talent for reindeer _husbandry_ , but only that species seems to calm his bursts of cheerful energy. And, in this case, his gripping anger.

He's shown a new side of himself to Elsa tonight. One she hadn’t suspected he had. But men’s temper tantrums more generally? Familiar territory. At least, in the world of governance. Surely, she can handle his, right? Slowly, she walks across the snow to where he sits, his knees up and head slumped forward behind crossed arms. Although he’s wrapped up well, his neck remains exposed to the night air, and at its base Elsa can just see the edge of the bear mark. _Can the body scar without blood being drawn?_ she wonders _._ She sits down beside him. Not too close. If anyone knows the look of someone who doesn’t want to be touched, she does.

They remain silent as Ryder glowers and mopes, staring out at the sleeping reindeer. Elsa watches a small purple flame approach them from forest. After several minutes, Bruni arrives between them. He climbs up into Elsa’s lap and onto the hands resting there, looking up with concern. She no longer winces at his footsteps.

“Do you know how our parents died?” Ryder's question shocks Elsa. Her mouth agape and confused, she searches Ryder’s face. She hadn’t been sure how to talk to Ryder tonight to begin with, but now…

_What am I missing?_

“Yeah,” he says bitterly. Not at her specifically—he glares at his fingers, picking at them. “Me neither.”

A pause. Elsa takes a deep breath to steady herself. Friendship with her sister, and by extension Kristoff, felt so much easier when everyone was also family. She wishes it was Anna here in her place. She’d know what to say, what to do. With a sharp inhale, she sees him glaring at her out of the corner of his eye. It’s something she’s seen Maren do.

“Ryder?”

“When you were gone,” he asks, still holding her gaze, “where’d you go?”

Elsa thinks a moment, loosening her focus. Looking up at the stars, she sighs into a decision—tell the truth. “Athohallen.”

Ryder’s face changes completely. He whispers, reverent, “Doing what?”

She has to look away, so she resumes lightly petting Bruni. “I was… chasing memories.”

+++

_Elsa took a deep breath. Visiting Athohallen seemed like such a comfort, yet knowing what she had to direct its energy toward held her back. The island glacier belonged to her. Tainting her place of solace with—well, she didn’t know yet—felt criminal. Nonetheless, she concentrated on the memory of her mother, Iduna. When she had arrived here the very first time, Athohallen showed her aspects of the past that answered the question closest to the surface of her mind: Who was she? Who was the Fifth Spirit? Last time, affecting scenes that reminded her of Iduna’s love for Elsa came up, reassuring her in the face of the library discovery. But Anna’s explorations of the library required something more to make sense of the confusing clues. This time, approaching the entrance to the perfectly domed home to her magic, she pushed her mind to the edges. Vague sounds, unconfirmed suspicions, shouts from outside her bedroom: Memories she had to chase to pull into focus._

_Shaking hands reached out._

_Refreshing light filled the room, and Elsa reassured herself. Athohallen would still be her safe place, she knew, looking round. As the snow-people took shape, she took a deep breath._ _Then two figures landed just in front of her, shouting, sending her reeling back until a wall stopped her. Gasping, she looked between the images of her parents._

_“You’re not serious, Agnarr?” Iduna asks sharply. “Magic has been a part of Elsa since she was an_ infant!

_“What do you propose instead?!” Agnarr roared back. “She can’t control herself! We can’t control her!”_

_“She had plenty of control before, when she could practice with others around!”_

_“Oh, so our beloved Anna is just a play thing? A, uh, uh… a practice dummy?”_

_Elsa winced non-stop. It occurred to her that they looked just like the night of that horrible accident. Had they stayed up late fighting?_

_Iduna softened, clearly hurt. “Of course not! But they’re sisters. They need each other, more than ever!”_

_More calmly, Agnarr replied. “They need to be_ safe _. Don’t you think I know that Anna probably pushed her? But do you think the trolls would have removed Anna’s memories if the memories_ themselves _weren’t a part of it?”_

_Iduna clutched at the scarf around her shoulders. “What do you mean?”_

_Agnarr sat. “My understanding was that even the memory of magic could hurt Anna.” He held a hand to his mouth, bouncing a foot, anxious. “Surely, that must be it, or why would…” He sighed, crumpled._

_“No…” Iduna began again, not shouting this time so much as crying. “No, that can’t be it.”_

_“What if,” Agnarr said, his voice strained, “what if Anna could be harmed by the mere memory of Elsa’s powers? Because her mind itself was struck? If her injury is-is-is like a disease that can recur? What then?”_

_The memory of Iduna kept shaking her head no. Elsa stood finally. She turned to walk away when she saw what had actually stopped her fall. It was not a wall. She jumps. Startled fresh ice forms underfoot._ _A figure of Iduna, just as Elsa remembered her, stood there. The figure had stopped her fall, had_ seen _and_ interacted _with her. After several minutes of watching the figure remain motionless, her breath steadied._

_“H-hello?”_

_No response. Not a voice—but an arm lifted and pointed._

_Terrified and nauseated, Elsa turned slowly to look in the direction indicated, trying to keep the figure in view at the same time. Far to the other side of the domed room—through a sea of her parents and even Iduna alone or with strangers—she could see her parents embracing, the way she had seen them here when she… froze to death._

_She ran and slid across the ice with some urgency, even though none of the “scenes” really began without her presence. Agnarr spoke: “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”_

_“Because,” Iduna cried, kissing the palm of his hand that held her face. “What if you saw me like…”_

_Agnarr choked out a small cry, genuinely upset by the hurt he could see on her face. “Like…”_

Like what?! _Elsa thought, watching. How did this memory help if she didn’t know what they communicated to each other without speaking? Why did stoicism have to be the family thing? Then she noticed how these ice figures looked different than the previous scene. Older… She knew suddenly that this was just after her eighteenth birthday. Just after that memory she saw here the first time, of Iduna preparing to share her past._

_“You were wrong about her.”_

_Agnarr looked back at his wife._

Oh, _Elsa thought._ Like me.

_“Wrong?”_

_“My research, it pointed me in a different direction. Ice and memory magics are connected, but not in the way you thought.” Iduna said it quietly, but not mercifully. “Anna’s memories of magic… they wouldn’t have hurt her, if we returned them to her.”_

_Elsa felt her knees hit the ice. She knew this truth already, but to witness the scope of their mistake could barely be borne._

_The memory of her father, Agnarr, fared similarly. He shook his head no, groaning louder and louder as he understood what she said. His daughters had suffered, greatly and uselessly, because of his mistake. Agnarr fell to his knees practically beside Elsa and cried in pain. Pressed his wretched face to Iduna’s dress, hands clinging to the fabric folds. Never in her life had Elsa seen him so raw. From her knees, she could see tear tracks show up on the snowy face, mouthing silently, “What have I done?” A stab of fury cut through Elsa’s chest._

_Iduna could not pull him back up, so she bent down: “We can fix this, Agnarr! I have a plan.”_

_But she couldn’t bare it anymore. Elsa scrambled away, into the hundreds of other scenes that played out in between the two she’d seen so far._

_Agnarr sat at her desk beside her, Elsa, at maybe thirteen, tutored her through a history lesson. He reached to place a hand on her shoulder then stopped, and he bit back tears unsuccessfully._

_Iduna’s hand rested on the outside of Elsa’s door, sang to her another lullaby from Northuldra, but Elsa couldn’t remember it happening. Her mother entered the door, and as a fifteen-year-old Elsa slept, Iduna caressed her face._

_Agnarr and Iduna laughed at Anna. She pulled faces at them from across a breakfast table. No Elsa._

_Iduna bent over multiple books, took notes frantically. She looked up, suddenly, whined, “Sunrise already?”_

_Agnarr and Elsa spoke animatedly about an aspect of foreign affairs. They were laughing when the teenager realized that snow piles were forming around the room. It’s the last time she let her father hug her._

_Iduna took her scarf off her own shoulders and tied them around Elsa’s instead, before leaving the castle for the last time._

_Agnarr smiled hopefully at a little Elsa, held out gloves for her to put on. He assured her that he really thought this could help. And he believed it._

_The nausea hit her hard. Suddenly, something pulled on Elsa’s arms. She closed her eyes because she knew if she saw the snow figure of her mother actually touching her, she might die on the spot. But she also felt weirdly grateful, for if she had stayed to see the gloves in snow form, she definitely would have vomited. When she stopped sliding across the ice, Elsa slowly opened her eyes._

_On either side, motionless, statuesque figures of both her parents stood guard._ What, _she thought,_ the fucking fuck in fuhucking hell?!

_Keeping her gaze down, Elsa walked quickly back to the entrance to the chamber. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the snowy figures all burst into flurrying snowflakes._

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

_It did no good, and Elsa felt herself give in to the panic attack. She knew the rhythm of her attacks, and so she let the tears flow and the shaking start without fighting it. Bile rose, but simmered back down. Never had much success fighting these._

_Much later, exhaustion had finally hit her hard enough that Elsa’s mind blanked. She desperately wanted to leave, but remembered what she had told herself earlier that day._

Athohallen is mine! _A fire started in her chest. Elsa stood, whipped around, reentered the chamber as she wiped her mouth on her arm. This time, no figures took shape, but shifting colors covered the darkened dome. After several minutes of simply glaring round the room, the fire in her settled. In its place, a steady warmth. Somehow when she had first walked into Athohallen just months ago, she could feel her mother’s love, so clear and spiritual and proud and happy. She felt her mother’s love again surrounding her… but now it was so, so sad._

\---

_Anna gripped Kristoff’s knee for comfort as windswept Elsa entered the room. They both stood to greet her. Over the last few weeks since Christmas, Elsa came and went with the spirits’ aid so often that she gave up on formalities, preferring to use her favorite little passage into the royal chambers from below the bridge. The rest of Arendelle didn’t need to know of her every visit._

_“Elsa!”_

_“Anna!”_

_The sisters embraced. Elsa pulled away first, sitting heavily near the roaring fire. A shadow crossed Anna's face, recognizing now that Athohallen’s cold affected her sister, usually insusceptible to any chill._

_“What did you find?” Anna asked, sitting back down next to Kristoff. He glanced at Anna, gently laying his hand on her shoulder._

_Elsa looked at them, too tired to hide how devastated she felt. “So much, but I fear not enough.”_

_The windows opened. No one jumped. Gale rushed to Elsa and her sister like an embrace._

+++

Only moments had passed, but Ryder watches Elsa as though he sees her whole past, despite her cryptic answer. Then he starts crying. Bawling.

“Ryder! Oh no! I—I’m sorry?”

“No no,” he blubbers, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying!”

Elsa smiles sweetly at him, scoots over, and leans her head on his shoulder. Her own tears build up, falling across her cheeks. “That’s okay. It’s okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Elsa finds out that all her very bad trauma stems from her father's mistaken understanding of her powers. Which is not news, let's be clear, but it gets really in her face at Athohallen. But also figures of her parents physically interact with her, and it's creepy as fuck, and she understandably has a panic attack.
> 
> In other news, think happy thoughts in my direction. I'm working on an application into a writing program that was something I really wanted like a decade ago and gave up on. Yay chasing dreams! And when I'm done, I'm writing more elsamaren for funsies.
> 
> Comments and questions welcome! I can barely wait to share the next two chapters! :D


	10. Chapter 9—Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL I JUST GOT PEPPER dafuq-ing SPRAYED BY COPS and I'm mad.  
> Because the mayor of Chicago ain't shit and she'd rather protect a statue than BIPOC people.
> 
> And for whatever reason, despite writing these slow burns, I love reading one shots non-stop and y'all have provided. So I'm just gonna post the next chapter because I fucking feel like it (We will return to regularly scheduled updates after this, though.)
> 
> WARNINGS!  
> The italicized section borders on explicit in a sexual manner!! Notes at the end if you choose to skip.  
> But otherwise this one's fun.

**—Chapter 9—Mercy—**

**—Honeymaren—**

Huffing in her sleep, she starts to feel herself wake up against blankets. Sunlight brightens behind her eyelids.

_No, good dream, no, no, sleeeeep._

But it’s over.

Honeymaren’s body relaxes. Slowly she opens her eyes. _I don’t live here._ She turns her head, her eye led by Yelena’s reach for a ladle of soup, cooking over the fire.

“Good morning,” she says simply.

Honeymaren blinks a few times against the light. “Hey.”

“Eloquent.” Yelena smiles despite her sarcasm. As Honeymaren starts to move upward, Yelena looks at her, meaning for her to stop. She obeys her elder.

“Slow, Honeymaren, slow.”

Looking around, Honeymaren queries, “Am I okay?”

“You’re not bad. It’d be good to see you move around. But go slow. Eat something first.” She passes a bowl of soup in a small kuksa.

“Pretty sure I’m gonna want more of that,” Honeymaren replies, taking the handle and sipping immediately. Only then does she realize how hungry she feels. “Shit, what happened?”

Yelena snorts. “Cursing suits you,” she says simply.

“Sorry.”

“I just told you, it’s fine.” Yelena serves herself some soup, takes a sip. “I actually wanted to ask _you_ what happened.”

Honeymaren blows her lips, but she does as asked. She spares no details of what she last remembers.

Yelena looks wide-eyed. Ultimately, she clears her throat. “Be sure to tell your brother as soon as possible. I _might_ have been too harsh with him last night.”

“Oh?” Normally, Honeymaren doesn’t question Yelena—or anyone who teases her brother, who takes it all in joyful stride—but she also never nearly died before. After a sip more of the broth, she looks up. “Do I need to beat you up or something?”

They sneer at each other. Although she tries not to show it, a warmth for her mentor stabs her chest. Not just her sacred elder, Yelena and she have always been close. She has not and will not ever consider Yelena a mother-figure, but perhaps a kind of aunt. Sure, that describes all the women in the tribe, but still. Yelena and Honeymaren share… well, trauma, for starters.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“So, my turn,” Honeymaren says with a smile, sitting up more. “What happened while I was out?”

“Hmmm,” Yelena pauses, smiling in that slight but honest way. “Why don’t you stay here for a little while?”

_That’s weird._ But she nods. So, Yelena takes a deep gulp of her soup, then stands and leaves. Waiting, Honeymaren gobbles up her own cup with speed. As she’s refilling it, she hears someone at the entrance. “Okay, explanation now, Yelena?”

“Um, hi.”

Honeymaren finishes refilling her cup, but her eyes widen and her body stiffens. Unconsciously, she bites her lips. As casually as she can muster, she chokes out, “Hey, Elsa!” Radiant as ever, practically glowing in the early morning light, Elsa stands in the doorway. Polite as ever, she remains there until invited in. Honeymaren sighs. More calmly this time: “Come in.”

Elsa walks in and sits next to Honeymaren, laying a hand on her knee with a desperate look on her face. “Maren!”

_Holy—!_

“I’m so glad to see you’re okay! Yelena said you wanted to speak with me?”

“Well,” Maren starts, “I actually wanted to know what happened after I passed out…? That is, I'm guessing that I passed out.” The look on Elsa’s face reminds her too much of last night… Or rather, the dream last night. “Besides something about my little brother being chewed out, probably for the reindeer thing?”

“Reindeer thing?”

“Oh,” Maren sighed. She’ll find out sooner or later. “A couple years ago, see he’s great _with_ animals but not great at taking care of them, and he led a bunch of reindeer across that dammed lake.” She looks away for a moment, remembering the blunder that turned deadly. “You could never trust that lake.” Hopefully, that will satisfy.

“I see,” Elsa says, looking away. Honeymaren sees a strain there, an anxiety rises its head. Her hands fidget again.

“Elsa?” she asks, hoping to bring her attention back.

She straightens up, grips Honeymaren’s knee tighter. But she still looks away. “I was gone a long time. I had… Anna and I made a discovery, and…”

Without thinking, Honeymaren reaches out, laying her hand on Elsa’s. That brings her eyes back. Honeymaren smirks despite herself. Elsa smiles, too. _That smile she saves for me,_ she reckons. _I wish._

“I was with the spirits and we all…” Her face squirms. Maren rubs her thumb across the back of Elsa’s hand. “I felt something. Gale came for me. Nokk didn’t want to go, but—”

“Aahhh,” Honeymaren vocalizes. “I knew it! I knew he didn’t like me.”

Elsa smiles again, but a blush rises to her shoulders and she looks away. “But he went and found you, and I caught up eventually.”

“So you got me out of the water?”

“Technically, Nokk did.”

“I _distinctly_ remember that part.”

“He carried us home,” Elsa finishes, watching Honeymaren’s thumb on her hand.

“And then?”

Elsa looks surprised. “Then we brought you in here. Yelena was terse with your brother. But she and Girste knew what to do to save you.”

“ _You_ saved me.” Honeymaren can see Elsa gulp and stop breathing. She allows herself one glance downward, taking it all in: Honeymaren knows she was in incredible danger after those ten minutes in the water; Elsa saved her life; and despite knowing that it was the fifth spirit shit that really enabled it all, it's this person in front of her that she can't look away from. 

“I might have sped things up,” Elsa smiles to herself. Those ice-blue eyes look at her, and their glow feels just as wonderful as the sunlight around them.

“Alas,” Honeymaren says, “I have to thank you.”

“Oh, you have to?”

“Mhmm!” Honeymaren smirks coolly through her raging heartbeat, and finally she seems to feel more like herself. “Thank you, oh great fifth spirit,” she says in the flattest tone she can.

Elsa laughs a little. That’s when Honeymaren’s mouth goes dry. Considering they haven’t spoken in quite a while following Elsa’s disappearance for the hardest part of winter, her reactions feel doubly intense now that they’re so close.

And then there’s the dream…

“I should be going,” Elsa says suddenly.

“Oh! Wait, help me up.”

Elsa’s blush grows. “Ai—are you dressed? Under all those blankets?”

It takes less than a second for Honeymaren to realize the answer. With almost anybody else, she wouldn’t care. “Just, uh, one sec.” She pulls the top blanket off the others and wraps it round her shoulders. “Help me up, I’ll put on something of Yelena’s.”

Preemptively, Elsa stands and gets behind Honeymaren to help. Soon enough, she’s standing and throwing on whatever Elsa tosses her way, bearing in mind that Elsa must

not be looking because her aim sucks. Plus everything's too small.

When they walk out of Yelena’s goahti together, they hug. That’s when Honeymaren sees Yelena waiting nearby, leaning against a tree. But they’re parting already, and Elsa’s speaking—

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too! Thank you, Elsa.” They wave as Elsa leaves. Yelena pounces on her immediately. “Yelena!”

“Honeymaren?!”

She meets Yelena’s intense gaze with an intensely confused one of her own. “What?!”

“A hug? That’s the best you could do?”

Blazing hot blood rushes to the surface of Honeymaren’s skin, bathing her in red. “W—wha… huh?”

Disappointment pulls on Yelena’s face, followed by aggravation. Tight lipped, she places a hand on Honeymaren’s shoulder. “Listen. If I have to spend another night hearing you _whimper her name in your sleep_ —ever again—you better hope she knows how to treat hypothermia herself, because I won’t be helping!”

Honeymaren blinks rapidly, gulps, her voice completely gone. Wide-eyed as an arctic hare, she glances back the way Elsa had gone. _No—the dream!_

***

_Nude in cold water, Honeymaren looks around. Darkness all around, death surely below. A bright light suddenly appears above. It strikes her chest at the heart and pulls her up. Air fills her lungs as the light envelopes her body. The pressure of the hand of light remains, an incredible heat emanating from her chest where it touches her, bright like the sun._

_Honeymaren’s eyes adjust. Furs surround her and cover her, and at her chest a hand, delicately pale, rests. She raises her own hand to hold it, gently caressing it, looks up expectantly._

_“Elsa!”_

_“Hi Honey!” Elsa smiles down at her, glowing. The pressure from the hand on Honeymaren’s chest grows as Elsa leans down, her red lips less than a breath away from her own. A soft curtain of blonde hair surrounds them, sparkling like starlight._

_“Elsa?”_

_She smiles so close, her lips brushing against Honeymaren’s. No—Honey’s! Unable to resist, Honeymaren pushes up into her urgently. She wraps her arms around Elsa’s waist, crashes their lips together, hungry, and encouraged by Elsa’s hunger in return. When they separate, something’s changed. Elsa’s below her, no dress, under the blankets. Now, Honeymaren’s hair curtains around them instead._

_“Elsa! I can’t believe this!”_

_With the softest gaze, Elsa smiles up at Honey. “Believe it.”_

_Encouraged, Honey smiles and kisses her again, cradling Elsa’s head with her arms. She shudders, carefully bringing her thigh up, closer to Elsa’s core…_

Wait… there’s a blanket between us? And the light, it’s different…

No no no no!

***

Internal screaming. Honeymaren’s entire mind, from her brain to the nerves in her toes, screams. Tears and embarrassment bubble up through the silent shriek. _In front of all people!_

Yelena lays a hand on her shoulder. “I… I didn’t mean that, kiddo. You okay? … Honeymaren?” Still nothing. “Ryder!”

Honeymaren turns, finally breaking free of the shock. At a moment’s notice, he’s beside her, looking at Yelena for guidance. In turn, the elder just looks at him apologetically. “Sorry. For last night.”

He chews inside his cheek. “I understand why you said what you said. And I'm very sorry for how I behaved.” Honeymaren continues freaking out inside. “Actually, Mare, I came to talk to you because believe it or not, Elsa and I had this big heart to heart—well, it felt big in the moment, we didn’t actually say that many words—and I thought maybe I could help you with, you know, stuff but uh… are things okay? Right here, right now?”

A huge sigh, and Honeymaren releases the tightness of her body. Looking up into her brother’s dark blue eyes, so much like their mother’s, she can finally breathe. “Can I have a hug?”

Ryder smiles gently. “Of course! You nearly died!” He wraps his arms around her, tight as he can. Normally she wraps her arms around him, too, but right now she feels so small and foolish that she brings her arms up to his chest to hide herself further.

Yelena nods approvingly and moves on about her day.

“Twice.”

“Hm?” Ryder hums, looking down at Honeymaren.

She takes a moment to find her usual sense of calm, then speaks again. “I almost died twice. Once in the water, and then just now.”

He looks aghast. “How do you mean? What’s happened?”

“Apparently, I had,” she starts, “a dream. Last night. And Yelena heard me.”

Understandably, Ryder looks confused. “Uh… was it a bad dream?”

Honeymaren hides her face against his chest again. “No.”

“So, it was a good dream?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

“Please don’t make me say it,” she squeaks. Honeymaren gives him a timid look, raising her eyebrows at him to plead for mercy.

“Okay, I still don’t—OH! …oh.” The moment Ryder understands, Honeymaren yells a little, frustrated with herself, burying her face out of sight again. He rubs circles across her back with his hands. “Is it a bad time to tell you, uh… I have also heard you dream?”

“What?! No! Nonononono!”

“Mare, it’s okay!” Ryder coos. He gently grasps her wrists and pulls her arms down to look into her face. “Everybody has dreams like that sometimes. Besides, it could way worse! Frankly, it’s a good sign for you! I’m practically proud.”

Sniffing, she asks, “How could it possibly be good? Or worse!?”

“Well, _you_ could have heard Yelena dreaming!”

“OH! NO! Ryder!” She pushes her chuckling brother away. “Why? Don’t ever say that again! Why?!”

“Ohoho _or_ Elsa could have stayed the night with you. Although _maybe_ you’d be okay with that.”

“STOP! Disrespect to your elder! Fuck!”

He laughs again. And she can’t help but smile at him. They hug properly this time. “Let’s walk,” he suggests. “You feeling up to it?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

As they walk across the snow, growing slushy in the sun’s rays, Honeymaren finds her rhythm. She’s been caught with her feelings on display, but at least she’s shown them to trustworthy people. At least Yelena approves. Their progress stops frequently as friends and elders run up to check on her and ask for her version of the previous day’s events. Eventually, they end up visiting the reindeer. Other members of their _siiddat_ —the families of the tribe who primarily act as the reindeer followers (or “herders,” as the Arendellians described them)—watch over the beasts.

Ryder puts a hand on Honeymaren’s shoulder. They smile at each other, but Honeymaren feels her smile slip more. While the initial shock of Yelena’s revelation has worn off, now Honeymaren has to face the consequences. She can’t write off a dream like that as a combination of weird food and libido (and, as the case might be, almost dying). Even now, she can feel Ryder watching her despite his favorite distraction milling about right in front of him. So, she takes a deep breath, signaling to him that she was ready.

“Mare,” he says, “it’s okay if you have feelings for her. You know that, right?”

She nods. “I do. I’m not sure why exactly I’m so… scared.”

“What? Scared?” Ryder smiles sympathetically. And sarcastically. “You?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yes. It is very obvious.”

“You were trying to tell me that yesterday, weren’t you? Before I left to fish.”

Ryder nods, smiling gently. “It’s just, you’ve had plenty of previous experience. I know you know what you’re doing. But this isn’t like you. Mare, you’re so smart and brave and funny! I get that you feel scared this time around. I get why. But you don’t _deserve_ to feel scared. And I think… I think the more you give into it, the more you let it control you…”

“Things will just get scarier,” she finishes for him. He nods, encouraging her. “And the more I’ll hurt my chances at… stuff.’” Vulnerability washes through Honeymaren’s chest, followed by relief and resignation. “Could we talk about something else? I could use a break.”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “But I did wanna tell you about talking to Elsa last night.”

Her heartbeat picks up a touch, but Honeymaren nods. As long as she’s not the one talking. “Sure.”

“Elsa was telling me she spent a bunch of time at Athohallen while she was away. I guess she’s working on some kind of puzzle, something that came up in Arendelle while she was there. She called it ‘research.’”

“Yeah,” Honeymaren nods, occasionally glancing at him as he talks with his hands.

“But the thing is, she didn’t even really tell me what happened _at_ Athohallen, but all of a sudden I just _knew!_ Not like I was there or could see things she’d seen, but I felt it. It was wild!”

Now Honeymaren really looks at him. “So, you empathized with her?”

“No, it was something else!” Ryder explained. “It was like I could feel what she’s feeling, but not feelings. It felt like what I told you about sacrifices?”

“Hm, okay.” She knows her brother has always been particularly affected by the killing of animals of any kind, beyond just wishing they didn’t _have_ to kill animals to survive. Plenty of others in the Northuldra prayed even more regularly than he did for the wellbeing of all life. But Ryder has visceral reactions, as though he could physically feel what animals felt. This unique quality had made the loss of so many reindeer on the not-so-frozen lake years ago especially agonizing. “That’s intriguing.”

“Maybe it’s a fifth spirity power! But I think you should talk to her about it.”

“No, I think that might just be something special of its own. And _you_ should talk about it to her or whoever.” She ponders, continues, “Have you talked to the elders? Maybe there’s a reason you have these connections with others.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that, to me, it sounds like you should receive training as a _noaidi_.”

“Me? A _noaidi?"_ Ryder gasps quietly. She shrugs in response. “I hadn’t thought of that!”

Then it hit her. “Ryder! Who helped you with your medicine while I was out?”

“My medicine?”

“For your back?”

“Oh, I,” Ryder begins, pausing. “I just did it myself.”

“Really.” It was not a question.

His squirming smile gave him away. “Yeah?”

Shaking her head, she slowly reaches down, grabs snow, and quickly shoves it down his shirt. He yelps, and a snowball fight ensues.

\---

Later that night, the siblings sit in their goahti by the fire. Honeymaren finishes applying her brother’s medicine to the bear print on his back. “It is getting better,” she assures him, looking him over. The mark looked more like a giant bruise than something otherworldly now. As she wraps up the lotion, she takes an accidently whiff of the stuff. “Yuck! You know, I think I got off luckier than you.”

“Because that shit stinks!” Ryder replies, trying to put a shirt back on, but clearly disgusted by the sensation of the cloth on top of the lotion.

“It does.” She hears a little rattling behind her. When she turns, Ryder’s holding up a square, wooden board and several small wooden pieces: _sáhkku_.

“Wanna play a game?”

“Sure!”

Ryder sets up the board. Honeymaren sits back by the fire as he does, wrapping herself in as many soft covers as possible. She genuinely feels entirely healthy again, but the emotionally exhausting day calls for maximum snuggles. About an hour into it, starting their second round, another rattling sound meets their ears: someone knocking on wooden door of their goahti. With a shrug, they look at it. “Come on in!” Ryder calls.

“Good evening.”

Maren takes a deep, steadying breath before she looks away from the game, just a peek. A shiver goes up her spine as she does. Shaking snow off her bare feet, pale like the moon, lips red like autumn leaves. All it takes is a glance at her to feel intoxicated in the worst way. “Hi, Elsa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honeymaren has a wet dream about Elsa. But it's about Elsa saving her life, aww!
> 
> Y'all I hate pepper spray so much.
> 
> Comments and questions, as always, are welcome. Unless you get racist. #BlackLivesMatter


	11. Chapter 10—Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Announcement: We're moving to a Monday/Wednesday/Friday schedule y'all, even I'm getting too impatient, and I've only got time to be editing one fanfic apiece.  
> Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, by which I mean angst. No slurs will be mentioned, but there are references to homophobic slurs and parenting. This will be in the very first section of the chapter. I did my best to keep it unlikely to trigger, but just in case there's a summary in the end notes.  
> Cheat code: --- is a change of scene, *** refers to a dream, +++ refers to a flashback
> 
> This chapter's about how oblivious Elsa is, basically.

**—Chapter 9—Conversation—**

**—Elsa—**

+++

_Elsa and the Nokk stood on Athohallen’s shores, facing it from the Dark Sea’s waters. She took a shaky breath, her hand at her chest screwed into a tight fist. The Nook turned his head round, wrapping his neck back around to nuzzle her._

_“Mmmm… Thanks.”_

_A gentle nicker replied. Determined now, Elsa stepped toward the glacier. As she walked inside, placing her hand on the wall of the icy hall, a familiar glow hit her fingers. With it, that familiar sense of love and self-worth. Instantly Elsa felt reassured—not just that she would be okay, but that she would_ always _be okay here. Athohallen was as much her own as much as her own self._

_With almost as much gusto as when she first discovered the glacier, Elsa ran back in._

_This time, the memories were different. She entered her domed chamber, not quite sure what she wanted to see, but open to whatever she might need to see. The figures rose and began their dance. Everything would be fine as long as none of them_ touched _her._

_Agnarr, a young man of maybe seventeen, voiced disagreement with his regent about something while meeting with advisors. They stepped outside to fight, hissing at each other._

_Iduna darted out of a school for orphans to a park in Arendelle, crying._

_Agnarr found her, and he confesses that he snuck away from his guards._

_Iduna, so little, sang her kulning from the top of the trees outside of the city._

_Agnarr held a lantern ahead of him, seeking out trolls in his late teens, judging by his mustache._

_Iduna, maybe eighteen, sat at the edge of the mist, panting. She couldn’t get in._

_Agnarr signed a document as king, and glared at his former regent on the way out of the room._

_Iduna, young and pregnant, sat on top of the roof of the castle, singing._

_Agnarr and Iduna fought about something as young adults, dressed up for a ball, shouting in each other’s faces, until they suddenly kissed._

_Elsa turned away quickly, afraid of how much more she might see there. She walked toward the center of the room, ready to release the magic of memory that animated the snow-figures around her when a trio of them caught her eye._

_Two adults, one of whom she recognized as her father’s regent. Although no portraits of him hung in the castle—like those of Mattias or even of King Runeard—she knew his face from a textbook she had to read in history lessons growing up. That, and his outfit looked similar to that which her own regent wore during his wonderfully neutral three years of rule before Elsa could be coronated. Her father's regent and the other gentleman spoke about perverts. Another word that stung Elsa to her soul flung from their mouths. Agnarr was the third person with them, walking closely behind them, seventeen again. As he listened, his face changed. She suddenly saw herself in his face—perhaps for the first time in all her life. His nostrils flared, his eyes widened, his jaw stuck out with tightened lips. Elsa had seen her own face move_ just like that _when she was furious, but holding her tongue, waiting to make her move during negotiations as queen. And then, behind their backs, Agnarr raised his arms like he wanted to strangle them with his own bare hands._

_She turned away once more. At her feet, a little boy made of snow sat crying. He couldn’t have been older than six. His clothes were grubby at best, and he was surrounded by straw. Considering his attire, she thought perhaps he was the son of a stable hand. Maybe a stable boy himself depending on how far back this memory was. He was so tiny and upset, Elsa struggled with her immediate urge to comfort him despite knowing that this boy was just animated show, playing through a memory._

_Another little boy, older, perhaps nine walked in. He heaved a sigh and put his hands in his pockets. He walked over and sat down by the littler boy. "Hey.”_

_“Hi, Agnarr,” the littlest child sniffled, trying to hide his tears._

Father!

_“How are you, Tomas?” Agnarr asked, laying an arm around the boy’s shoulders._

Tomas? Who’s Tomas? _Elsa wondered. She crouched down unconsciously, as if real children had approached her. Whoever the child was, he couldn’t stop crying long enough to answer her young father._ Why am I seeing this?

_“Tomas, I hate seeing you like this.”_

_“I hate_ being _like this!”_

_Elsa clutched at her heart. The words echoed in her mind, a heavy mantra she carried for a dozen years and more._

_“Stop. Tomas, please. Settle and listen,” Agnarr instructed. He ruffled Tomas's hair, which helped the little one. After one final sniffle, Tomas turned his face toward Agnarr, who continued. “You are too good a kid to believe what your dad says about you, or what anybody else says either.”_

_“B-b-but they said—”_

_“I know what they said,” Agnarr interrupted. He grabbed some straw and sprinkled it across the little one’s head and lap. “You know what pastor says? He says nothing can separate you from God’s love—nothing. And I figure that means not even pastor can. Your father can’t either, and my father can’t either.”_

_“But your father’s king!”_

_“He’s no Tomas.”_

_Elsa’s brow furrowed. She knew Athohallen showed her certain memories for a reason. Why this? What did they mean?_

_“Did you know that the disciple Thomas's name translates to ‘twin’?”_

_“Ah, Agnarr, you know I can’t never read. Not even my father reads.”_

_“Then listen: The Greek scholars thought he was called ‘twin’ because he looked like Jesus Christ himself.” Agnarr smiles. It’s brotherly, but the littlest boy’s eyes light up at him like little Anna’s did whenever she made up prince charming stories._

_“Yep! So, I think I’ll take sides with a Tomas!” Agnarr ruffled his hair again, and they playfully wrestled for a moment._

_The little Tomas boy sighed. “Thanks. You’re so nice, Agnarr.” Then young Agnarr did something completely unexpected. Elsa gasped: The child that would become her father leaned down and kissed Tomas’s cheek. Tomas gasped too, touching his cheek with disbelief. The older boy stood up and chuckled._

_“Don’t get any ideas, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t get a little practice in if you like boys this much!”_

_In a snap, Elsa stood up, lifted her hands round in a circular motion, releasing the snow figures from their dance immediately. Looking up at the ceiling, jaw slack and brow tight, she yelled at Athohallen: “WHAT WAS THAT?!” What on earth was this supposed to mean?!_

+++

“HEY ELSA!” Ryder greets her, louder than she expects. _Maybe he finally tried coffee?_ But his eyes are wide, he stretches strangely, his gaze whirling between herself and Maren.

“How are you both?” she asks. Maren nods at her with a slim smile. Her face looks warm with heat—an excellent sign after the night Maren had. “You look good!”

“Yep!” Ryder says, still moving his arms around a lot. “Yep yep, we all look good!”

_That’s weird, even for Ryder._

“Ryder, it’s your turn.”

Elsa notices the board between he and Maren. It looks like chess, but different. “What are you playing?”

_“S_ _áhkku_ ,” Maren says. She stares at the board in deep concentration. A little something in Elsa’s chest flutters, seeing her covered in plush furs and blankets, plus a hat. “Would you like to learn?”

“Huh? Oh! Sure,” Elsa says, walking toward them. She sits down a little behind Maren and to her side so she can see the board. Maren flinches, however. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Maren seems barely able to look at her, but she shares a meaningful look with her brother.

“So!” Ryder’s voice cracks. “The object of the game is to defeat the other side.”

A chuckle escapes Elsa’s lips. “As is the case with most games.”

“Right! Right, good. We’re learning. Anyway, one side is…”

“Yes?”

“One side is—is—is… the Sun people, and the other side is…” Ryder’s mouth makes some odd shapes in silence.

Maren finally turns and looks at Elsa directly. “We call the other side the soldiers, of Arendelle.”

“Naturally,” Elsa smirks.

The fluttering sensation returns when Maren smirks approvingly back at her. “Go ahead with your next move, Ryder, I’ll explain.” Behind her mind’s eye, Elsa sees Maren’s body flung out of the deep hole in sea ice, groaning in pain, spasms wracking her through. She bites her lip at the thought, regret pooling in her chest for how long she spent away from her home with the Northuldra. “Did you hear all that Elsa?”

“Uh… explain it again, please?”

“The center of the board is the ‘dam’ or ‘castle,’ where the ‘king’ of the soldiers starts. Pieces surrounding the center piece are the soldiers. Then the Sun people are the pieces around the perimeter of the board, see?”

She nods, watching Ryder move one of the central figures himself as his sister speaks. “So,” Elsa asks, laying a hand on her friend’s shoulder to lean closer to the game, “is the goal to take over the dam?”

“Um, no.” When Maren bites her lip, Elsa worries. Has she caused offense? “The goal of the game is to surround the king with four pieces.”

“How would Ryder win then?”

Maren turns back to her brother. “Well?”

“I would win—never—by getting the ‘king’ to the edge of the board.”

“Which,” Maren starts, immediately moving a piece next to one of his, so that two pieces sat on opposite sides of his, “would be easier if you ever protected your other pieces, instead of letting me gobble them up.” She removes Ryder’s piece entirely.

“You cheat!”

“I strategize.”

A light chuckle escapes Elsa, feeling so fond of these two. They remind her of Anna. Under her hand, however, she feels Maren tense. Despite her usual interpersonal anxiety, she leans over Maren and rubs her shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“Besides winning?” Maren quips. Something’s off, though. Her voice sounds thin. “Great! I told you, you saved my life.”

Pause gives way to stillness. All three Northuldra sit in the break of Maren’s voice, wadding into that threat of nothingness that she had faced. Slowly, Elsa watches Maren lift a hand to her own on Maren’s shoulder. They interlace their fingers. Elsa squeezes gently, then withdraws. A little shaken, she darts her eyes around the room until they land on Ryder.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“How are you doing, Ryder?”

“I’m okay, really.” He smiles so sweetly that Elsa wonders if the man she met last night could really be the same person. Then again, he had seen right through her, crying tears she had yet to brave herself.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“And you?”

Elsa turns back down to Maren, who watches her expectantly. But her eyes keep darting down to Elsa’s—nose? mouth? _Is there something on my face?_ A moment passes before she recalls the question being asked. Looking to Ryder, Elsa sees he also wears curiosity in his eyes. She realizes then, looking back to Maren’s pleading eyes that they want to know more. A distance grows in Elsa’s eyes, and slowly she lifts her knees up, wrapping around herself.

She sighs. _I trust them_.

Although Elsa sees that the time has come to explain, where to begin? How much time passes in silence, she doesn’t know, but she finally speaks.

“When I returned to Arendelle, Anna and I discovered a secret study that we believe our mother kept. She studied me, studied magic. Maybe she did it because she missed the spirits and the forest, or because she wanted to find the best way to take care of me… I can’t say what they did was actually…” The image of Iduna standing above Agnarr, explaining in so few words that he misunderstood the magic (or that perhaps even the trolls had misunderstood the magic of distant Northuldra, that the ice was, in fact, a _gift)_.

Something touches her bare foot—a hand, rubbing a thumb over the top of her skin. No one’s… ever touched her foot before, not even Anna or… anyone. Maren’s brown eyes meet hers. Elsa persists.

“What we discovered, we had so many questions. I went to Athohallen for answers but, to make sense of what I saw, I had to speak with Anna. Find out what she discovered in the hidden study. I must have made a dozen trips, Arendelle to Athohallen and back.”

Ryder asks, “So, what did your parents do to, uh, try to help you?”

 _Oh_ , Elsa realizes, tightening her limbs around herself. “Olaf’s explanation wasn’t specific enough, hm?”

“You don’t have to say,” Maren offers, “but no, it was unclear beyond…”

“Separation,” Ryder shrugs.

“I… was kept to myself, until my coronation.”

“That part I remember,” Ryder grimaces. 

Something about his grimace helps her onward. Elsa chuckles. “I believe my parents and I misunderstood what was necessary for Anna’s safety. My mother suspected, but she couldn’t prove it until too late. And over time, I became stricter with myself than even they intended.”

“That’s parents for you,” Maren groans. Elsa can’t help but notice Ryder looking to his sister, his lips tight like they were last night. How _did_ their parents pass?

“More than anything else, I see now,” Elsa starts, her lips pausing, twitching with thought. “How _human_ they were. I thought perhaps…”

The siblings wait patiently. Their attention, occasionally interspersed with small _sáhkku_ moves, feels more like home than any game night in Arendelle. Whether that’s good or bad or both or neither, Elsa’s unsure.

“Perhaps?”

“When the water spirit first brought me to Athohallen, the presence of my mother made it feel like maybe… maybe _she was the fifth spirit_ , at least as a child? I don’t know. Now, I think… not. There was this moment, when I first started hearing the voice that called me here,” Elsa explains. “My powers were growing in unexpected ways. I could make a trail of snow,”—she demonstrates, giving into the temptation to bop Maren on the nose at the end of a tiny trail of snowflakes—"and they would _act_ seemingly on their own, as if to tell me something. Even though I felt like it was connected to my power, I could see images in my magic that I didn’t consciously make! And I think… I think Athohallen and I are connected in this way, where it is attached to my powers, but in a way that tells me things about myself I don’t yet know.” 

“Answering the questions of the past…” Maren ponders aloud.

Elsa nods. “I think, in a way, it used the past of my mother to call me to myself because my mother always loved me. She fought for me without my knowing. Maybe they both did but… I guess you can do good while not getting it right, not giving what’s needed.”

Honeymaren’s hand removes itself, and suddenly Elsa feels lonelier than before. Until—

“Is a hug okay?”

_How is she so perfect?_ Elsa wonders. She nods. “I would accept a hug.”

Maren stands, keeping half of her pile of blankets wrapped over her own shoulders. She moves to Elsa’s side, wraps an arm around behind her. With a sigh, she nuzzles her face into the crook of Elsa’s neck and wraps her other arm round her front. Almost immediately, Elsa unwraps her body, leans into the hug. The relief she feels reminds her of touching down in Athohallen, knowing in her heart that she’s found her home.

After several easy minutes of respite, Ryder’s voice croons, “So, _sáhkku_? Your move, Mare.”

\---

Elsa fails miserably at her first game against Ryder. She decidedly does not succeed in her second game, against Maren this time. Her third game, again with Ryder, proves victorious.

“Ha! Your king is trapped!”

“How _could you?”_ he groans, letting his face and arms fall upon the board, sending pieces flying. To their collective delight, a little fire spirit bursts out from their fireplace, catching the wooden king in his mouth, and presents it with pride to Elsa.

“Thank you!” she sings down to him, taking the piece delicately and providing a small pile of snow for Bruni in return.

“Hello, little friend,” Maren adds, braving a finger to Bruni’s back as his excess heat steams off of him. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“One,” Ryder continues to moan. “I only won one game tonight.”

“One’s better than none, and if not for Elsa you _would not_ have had the one!” Maren pronounces. When her brother continues to mope, she shares a smirking side-eye glance with Elsa. She quickly realizes that Maren’s look is meant to be conspiratorial, as two elder siblings. With a careful scoop and a graceless drop, Maren relocates Bruni’s little snow pile onto Ryder’s head.

“WHY!?”

Bruni yelps in shock, jumps back into Elsa’s outreached hands. Meanwhile, Ryder stands up shaking his head around. “Mare, it is too late at night for pranks!”

She laughs, and the sound is so delightfully beautiful that Elsa can’t help a happy giggle. Even the little fire spirit climbs down to Elsa’s knee to investigate. “But I almost died!”

“That’s not a free pass!”

“He’s right though,” Elsa confides, leaning back on her hands. She doesn’t catch Maren’s intense gaze upon her in response, rather distracted by Ryder’s continued dance about his side of the goahti to remove snow from his skin and clothes. “It is getting rather late.” While she starts to stand, though, Maren objects.

“But you gotta play another _sáhkku_ game with me! Beating Ryder doesn’t mean you really _get_ the game.”

“Mare, please.” Ryder sits heavily on his bed. “It’s sleep time.”

Their eye contact lingers, but Maren turns up to Elsa, looking bright and lively. “May I walk you back to your home?”

“You may.”

Elsa remains seated while Maren goes about putting on a heavy coat and tracking down her boots. When she’s ready, Elsa offers Ryder a typically awkward pat on the knee and stands. He smiles and waves in return. Turning toward the door outside just behind Maren, Elsa suddenly feels her stomach churn. The sense memory of lifting her body onto Nokk, wrapping herself around Maren’s ever shivering body, calling out to God or Athohallen or the Sun—whoever might hear her heart—for Maren’s fate. Stepping out into the night now, that dark braid pulled round to her front, Elsa can see the dark, delicate hairs on the back of Maren’s neck, remembers pressing her forehead into that exact spot. She remembers how her heart felt like it trembled. It trembles again now.

Not fear… What could this feeling _be?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback summary: Elsa returns to Athohallen. It presents her with memories of her parents growing up around each other, and of her father protesting his regent's homophobia. (It's implied that Agnarr legalized gay marriage, which is canon according to the internet. The legalization, not who did it.) There's also a little scene of Agnarr as a boy cheering up a littler boy, Tomas, and giving him a kiss on the cheek. 
> 
> I know the timing doesn't actually work out, but I like to imagine Tomas and Oaken are married.


	12. Chapter 11—Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Honestly nothing much. There's some stuff about losing one's parents, but it's a conversation instead of acts, so I think it'll be okay.

**—Chapter 11—Hands—**

**—Honeymaren—**

Vapor shudders out of Honeymaren’s mouth as she steps out into the night. Although it had been warmer and sunnier lately, the chill seeps into her quickly enough. Turning back to Elsa behind her, she feels the hairs across her body stand on end. “Let’s go.”

Elsa jogs up beside her with Bruni riding along on her shoulder. She's shockingly unencumbered by the depth of snow on their trek through the trees toward her more secluded ice goahti. Honeymaren has always admired it, from afar. Even when Elsa had disappeared for all that time, Honeymaren resisted the urge to enter her home and explore—or look for clues of her whereabouts. Given Elsa’s guarded nature, she never pressed for entrance into any part of her life until invited. But tonight feels different.

“Honeymaren, I need to ask you about something.”

_She knows!_ “Oh?” Honeymaren tries to smirk, but she can’t hold Elsa’s gaze for long. Her heart flutters in her chest while her stomach makes threats.

“Yesterday,” Elsa starts as they get close to her home. Honeymaren can feel her pulse blasting away in her ears. “Ryder said something, I’m not sure if... maybe you should know about it.”

_Ryder?_ “Okay. What was it?”

Elsa stops, leans her backside against the side of her home. She crosses her arms, and for a moment she looks chilly. Honeymaren mirrors her position, resisting a sudden desire to wrap an arm around Elsa’s shoulders. Or waist. “He said," Elsa begins, "that he didn’t know how your parents passed.”

“Oh,” Honeymaren exhales. Her arms come down to her sides as she leans her head backward against the ice, too. After a few deep breaths, Elsa interrupts the fog in her mind.

“Would you like to sit down?”

She snaps awake. “What, like inside?”

Shrugging, Elsa swallows hard, pulls some loose hair behind her ear. “Yes.”

“I might need to sit down to have this conversation,” she admits. So, Elsa motions for her to follow. Bruni jumps off her shoulder, darting inside. Through the ice, Honeymaren can see the purple glow of a fresh fire, making the structure glow. “Wow… that's beautiful!” As they climb inside, Elsa smiles, pleased.

“You should tell him that.”

Taking in the glowing home from the inside, Honeymaren absently does: “Beautiful work, little guy.” Furs line the floor and climb into the bed, but pieces of furniture akin to what she remembers of Arendelle adorn the small space. Case in point, Elsa sits in a wooden chair with a pillow on it, curling up in it so her feet tuck themselves under her hips. Quickly taking off her snowy boots, Honeymaren sits on Elsa’s bed. “Your goahti is lovely!”

Blush creeps across Elsa’s cheeks and shoulders, making her faint freckles more visible. “Thank you. Would you like anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Honeymaren says, feeling a little stiff. Her hands have creeped together, anxiety pulling at the ends of her nerves.

“Are you cold?”

“Huh? No no! I’m just—” Honeymaren can’t think of what to say. She shakes her head with a smile, hoping that’s enough to dispel Elsa’s concern. No such luck: Elsa looks concerned. About her. _Maybe I shouldn’t be telling her about this._ But another thought crosses her mind, that Elsa is as Northuldra as anybody, and therefore she deserves to know about their shared past. No, she must know about it if she’s to take on this fifth spirit role… “When I was little,” Honeymaren starts again, leaning forward toward the fire, “there were many more Arendellian soldiers than there were by the time you arrived in the mist.”

“There were? What happened to them?”

“It’s hard to say for sure. They certainly didn’t know the forest like we did. Or at least, we knew it well before the mist. Hard to say, I wasn't there." She tries to chuckle, but it comes out thin. "While Northuldra had our tribe to support us in a familiar environment, they didn’t. I’m told that many of them died during the first winter.”

Elsa’s brows knit together. “That’s awful.”

Honeymaren nods. “It is. Even though our people weren’t friendly, doesn’t make it good. We had to change how we lived in the forest, too. I didn’t grow up knowing the spirits as allies the way Yelena does, the way other elders remember from being young. They became a lot more active just before you showed up, but still they weren’t friendly.” The purple light flickers across Elsa. The shadows across her dress suggests what lays below, and Honeymaren shakes her head a little again. She needs to focus.

The next part always hurts. To say it, Honeymaren requires being vulnerable in a way that she doesn’t like. If she’s going to be bare like that, can’t she just give in to desire, too? Or instead? But no, she reminds herself. That... hurts, too.

“You okay, Maren?” Elsa murmurs.

_Deep breath._ “The thing is people would disappear sometimes. Someone would go to get firewood and never come back. Couldn’t find a trace of them. And as much as we hated each other, Lieutenant Mattias I think had so much to deal with just keeping soldiers alive that… I don’t think it was them doing it.”

“You _don’t_ think soldiers… that they _took_ people?” The way Elsa says “took” cuts into Honeymaren like a knife, so gentle but so brutal all at once.

She shrugs, resting her eyes on Bruni, peacefully napping on the stones surrounding the fire. “I couldn’t say for sure. I wasn’t around for all of it, and I don’t remember what was going on while I was really little, obviously. There were skirmishes, of course, but still, everyone just tried to survive. And we _definitely_ weren’t the ones killing off all the soldiers.

“One day, Ryder was still pretty little and I was young too, honestly. Our parents left us in bed. We got up and just went to play with the other kids, same as we do now. They were off to go on a walk, or I think…” Maren shuts her eyes tight, trying both to pull up the memory of her parents walking out into the woods, and to hinder any traitorous tears from rising. It's just a breath of a memory now. “They wanted a break from the complete nightmare that is herding reindeer in an enchanted forest.” She smiles a little, trying to laugh away the pain. Licks her lips, but the pause grows and Honeymaren isn’t sure how to get back onto the path without crying. "Just... a fucking nightmare."

Elsa’s question comes out so quietly, Honeymaren almost misses it. “Are you okay?”

“They—” Honeymaren chokes out. Her eyes are dry but her throat is tight. “They disappeared. Only Athohallen knows what happened to them… We called it being spirited away.” Gasping, she looks up for Elsa’s eyes across from her, but Elsa's already there, that glistening dress of hers standing right in front of her. Honeymaren grimaces, then smashes her face into Elsa’s abdomen, wild cries rippling out of her abruptly. Elsa’s arms slowly reach, cradle her head.

As she bawls with unexpected emotion, Honeymaren resists the urge to wrap her arms tight around Elsa. She knows if she does, she’d be grabbing at her thighs, her ass, her lower back. From there, she knows where her hands would go, how desperately she would reveal everything to this woman. However, nothing has indicated with certainty that Elsa would _ever_ be okay with touch like that. Instead Honeymaren smashes a fist against her own knee repeatedly and tugs on the fabric of her shirt with the other.

It feels like an eternity of exposure. Sniffles show that she’s caught her breath. When she feels Elsa starting to loosen her grip, something kicks in Honeymaren’s courage. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

Without looking up, Honeymaren takes one last breath before saying, “I think... People can care a lot about you—about _you_ , Elsa—and they can try hard and they can be human, but if that care doesn’t give you life, if it doesn’t give you freedom and joy, if it isn’t healthy, I don’t think you should call it love.” A moment in stillness worries Honeymaren that perhaps that was cruel to say about Elsa’s parents. She holds her breath, unsure

Elsa lets Honeymaren go gradually, sits down next to her on the bed. Wiping her nose on the shoulder of her sleeve, she looks guiltily at Elsa from the corner of her eye. “Don’t tell anybody I cried?”

“Would never dream it,” she smirks. There’s sadness in Elsa’s eyes, too. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Honeymaren nods, “I will be.” She grabs her knees tight. “I think I’m gonna get outta here and let you get some sleep. Um… thank you again, Elsa. For… everything. It’s good to have you back.”

Elsa remains silent as Honeymaren gets her boots back on, but calls out for her as she reaches for the door.

“Honeymaren?”

“Yeah?”

“Me too. I’m glad to be back.”

\---

Over the next few weeks, the promise of spring holds out. Snow still sits on the ground, but boots fall closer and closer to the ground as more and more snow melts down in the soil. Hours of sunshine increase daily. At the height of the sun’s zenith, every once in a while, no one sees their breath.

“Hey!” Honeymaren calls, waving to Elsa in the early morning, the sky starting to turn that green of dawn that she loves most of all the sky’s many colors.

Jogging up to the goahti, Elsa asks, “Am I too late for morning coffee?”

“No, Ryder and I have a little more time before getting to the reindeer. Come on in,” she responds with an invitational shrug of her shoulder. Her boots aren't tied up on her feet yet anyway.

“Hey Elsa,” Ryder yawns. “Good morning.”

“Coffee?”

He chuckles. “Yes, we still have coffee.” He pulls out a small bowl and takes the kettle, warming on the fire pit’s stones, to pour her some. Passing the bowl, he says, “Sorry we are currently out of clean kuksas. We already had some coffee together.”

“I’d have a little more.” Honeymaren retrieves her own kuksa. Ryder obliges, splitting the last dregs between their two cups.

“Thank you!” Elsa coos, holding the steaming bowl carefully in front of her nose.

“Oh no,” Ryder says, hand on his heart, “Thank you!”

“You sleep all right last night?”

Elsa holds a finger up to Honeymaren as she takes a leisurely sip. “Mmmm! … No nightmares to report.”

“That’s great!” Honeymaren replies cheerfully, feeling her first cup’s caffeine hitting her bloodstream. Her current cup is intensely flavorful, almost slick, and she knows she needs to cut the dregs somehow. Absentmindedly, she snacks on one last bit of reindeer jerky.

“Are you going back to Athohallen today?” Ryder asks, yawning again.

Elsa catches his yawn immediately. But she follows up, saying, “I think not, I might just read today.”

“If you get bored,” Honeymaren says, “feel free to come visit us with the reindeer. They gotta start shedding their winter coats one of these days.” This week is the siblings’ turn as members of the _siiddat_ to do the grooming care for the reindeer herd. The timing couldn’t be more perfect for getting covered in fur.

“I might pass,” Elsa replies with a sly smile, making Honeymaren smirk and roll her eyes.

Shortly thereafter, Honeymaren and Ryder head to the community goahti to check in with everyone—and maybe see if anyone cooked something special for the _siiddat_ for breakfast—while Elsa heads back to her little home. Although Elsa has continued to visit Athohallen, Honeymaren delights in her return to the Northuldra each night and the promise of shared coffee the next morning. Usually Elsa brings some coffee from her most recent visit to Arendelle to their goahti; sometimes Honeymaren visits her without Ryder. Inevitably, Elsa runs out of coffee before she and Ryder do, and she visits them in return until she can acquire more. They speak often now, as they had before Elsa disappeared. No… not like then. This is better.

As the siblings walk, Honeymaren feels Gale blow by them. She turns, following her trajectory, and catches sight of a small paper-bird landing on top of Elsa’s head off in the distance. _A letter from Anna!_

Later in the day, standing on the wide plain under a perfectly blue sky, Honeymaren chuckles. She helps her moaning brother get the giant clumps of winter reindeer fur off of him. Plenty of such fur covers her as well, but Honeymaren doesn’t see the point of complaining. A moment later, she taps the dark brown reindeer on her rump, cueing her to move along so they can torture a different creature with their brushing.

They feel the shake of the earth before they see the earth giants’ approach. Nowadays, the reindeer still startle, but seeing their shepherds continue calmly about their work is such a rewarding teaching practice with their animals. An adolescent reindeer nonetheless scrambles over to Honeymaren, leaning against her for comfort. She pets down his neck before she turns around with a smile. As always, her heart flutters at the sight of Elsa.

“I thought you weren’t visiting us today!” she calls up to Elsa, sitting on an earth giant’s shoulder. Well, maybe a shoulder. Since the fall of the mist, the giants look so different. Less humanesque. Elsa says they feel freer, less stressed by the restrictions of the mist. How peculiar to think that even the spirits experience duress like that.

Elsa waves down from far above. She nods gently to the giant. An arm comes from around the back of the giant, revealing a reindeer the tribe thought had been lost forever last week. “We found a friend of yours!” Elsa shouts back.

“Eret!” cries Ryder. “I WAS SO WORRIED! C’mere little guy!” The juvenile reindeer dashes from the earth spirit’s ‘hand’ to Ryder and its mother.

Honeymaren smiles widely at the sight. The spirit helps Elsa down from its shoulder before departing, one heavy footstep at a time. They both turn to inspect the reindeer.

“How’s he look, Ry?”

“Like a perfect snow baby!” Ryder cries.

Leaning on her staff, Honeymaren turns to Elsa with her big smile plastered across her face. _Why can’t all days feel this good?_

“I saw you got a letter today.”

“I did.” Elsa glances into her eyes, fast then gone, sighs.

“What news from Arendelle, princess?”

Elsa shoots her a playful glare. “Don’t call me that.”

“Would you prefer something else?”

“Anna was letting me know that the statue of our parents should be finished at the end of the week. Anna wants me to be there.” Elsa looks away, contemplative.

“Will you go?” When Elsa looks at Honeymaren, she tries her best to hold her gaze, stay as steady as possible under the pressure of blue eyes. She’s done a good job (in her own opinion) avoiding temptation thus far.

This time, Elsa shrugs. “Probably not. I never cared for public attention.” 

“What? As a queen in a major metropolis of the very big world outside this forest, you did not love the attention?” Honeymaren teases.

Elsa smiles still, but she’s clearly sour now. “Just because I was lonely for a long time does not, in fact, make me revel in attention.” She’s not dismissive—certainly not of Anna or her needs, Honeymaren can hear that—but her tone does touch on bitterness. _No wonder she loves coffee_. Elsa continues, “Besides, I suspect Anna will invite me to see the family for family’s sake soon. I’d rather leave home for something like that.”

When she says “home,” Honeymaren can’t help but blush. The dreams haven’t stopped. To her best ability, she’s tried to cover herself as much as possible to keep from disturbing Ryder’s sleep. With anyone else, Honeymaren might act differently. But Elsa… no. She could never make the first move with Elsa. With as little as she knows about her new friend… no. Elsa’s simply not like other people.

Overnight trips to Arendelle aren’t rare. Over the last few weeks, she’s done it a couple of times. Each time, Honeymaren awaits Elsa anxiously. But then, she _always_ awaits Elsa anxiously every day.

**—Elsa—**

Elsa hears Anna hold her breath. A lightning round is up. Before Sven starts the hourglass (well, minute-glass), she stretches, bouncing on her toes slightly. _No freezing up. Not this time!_

“Ice! Happy? No, sunshine! Ha! Earth spirit! YES! Um, water spirit? Oh, river river river! OLAF!”

Sven’s bell rings. Elsa looks at the reindeer, hopeful. The unusually expressive animal nods at her happily. They win!

“WE WIN!” Anna screams. “In your face!” she shouts at Kristoff. Olaf claps happily, but Kristoff mainly braces his ears.

“I know, I saw!”

“Elsa!” Anna shrieks, jumping up and hugging Elsa so tight, she manages to pick her taller sister up off the floor.

“Oh! Oh, maybe down now?”

Anna obliges quickly. “I’m so proud of you!” Anna croons, her fists up by her face like she might box someone.

Elsa touches her braid for comfort. It feels weird to wear a braid again, but she tied her hair up out of old habit, she supposes. Then Kristoff stands up, coming close. He smiles so gently, it makes her nervous. “Well done, Elsa.”

Before she understands what’s going on, Anna’s hugging her. Kristoff’s hugging her. Olaf’s running up and hugging her legs. Even Sven’s stepping towards them.

“What is happening?” she asks, feeling claustrophobic.

“Oh, sorry!” Anna says, smiling apologetically as everyone lets her go. “It’s just… you’ve never done that well at charades!”

“I know, I’ve been practicing.”

“No, Elsa,” Anna says, her eyes sly. She lays a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. “Something else is going on.”

Stepping back slightly, Elsa gives her sister and the boys an uncertain look. “Something else? Like what?”

Kristoff and Anna catch the corners of each other’s eyes. “Nothing!”

“Anna—”

“Elsa,” Anna taunts. Her expression changes. She lightly rubs her hands up and down Elsa’s arms. “We’re proud of you. It’s like you finally see yourself how I see you.”

If she hadn’t said those words so sincerely, Elsa might challenge Anna. Or Kristoff. _Something else is going on…?_ For right now during game night, she’s willing to take the hug.

\---

“It’s so nice having you here again, Elsa,” Olaf sighs happily as they walk, hand in hand, down the hall toward his bedroom. It actually used to be her bedroom… hers and Anna’s, for a time. A good time.

“I like being here, too.” She squeezes a little on the tiny twig hands. Even compared to her incredible display that saved Arendelle, Elsa wonders at how she created self-sustaining life with nothing but a flick of her wrist. The potential of her powers doesn’t always rest easy with her, but at least lately they bring her more wonder than fear.

“Will you stay in Arendelle with us?” Olaf asks, opening his bedroom door and trotting on his little legs to the bed. With a flip of her hand, Elsa shoots a little blast of snow to push him up into the bed. Of course, he giggles with delight. She takes her time walking toward Olaf, as he tucks himself in a bit. Buys her time to think of a better response.

Elsa sighs. “Olaf, you know my home is in the north now.” She sits on the side of the bed, pulling the blanket up around him. How he survives, sleeps like this, Elsa can only wonder. He stopped needing a flurry after a while, and she only needed to assist him with a “permafrost” every year or so. What on earth could the full extent of her powers be?

Olaf sighs too, snuggling into the blankets. “I know. Tell me a story?”

Smiling, Elsa asks, “How about a Northuldra story?”

He claps joyfully.

“This story is about the fox, the bear, and the man. One day, a fox went fishing at a river, pulling out fish after fish. He was so pleased with herself! But on her way home, who should walk by but the bear!”

Olaf trembles with a smile under the blankets.

Elsa feels so at ease when she’s with Olaf. It feels like being up north—people know about her being kept apart and isolated, but it doesn’t affect the relationship. “The bear asks, ‘Little fox, how did you get so many fish?’” She does her best to impersonate the elder’s storytelling, lowering her voice comically. “The fox is cunning, and so she tells the bear, ‘Oh it’s so easy! Just stick your tail in the river, and wait until it feels heavy!’ But that is _not_ how the fox caught all her fish.”

“It’s not?” Olaf asks, both delighted and disturbed.

Elsa can’t help but smile down at him. “Oh no! The bear, you see, used to have a tail like the fox. And so he stuck his tail in the river, hoping for some fish.”

“But what happened if the fox was lying?”

“Well, what the bear didn’t know is that humans liked to visit that part of the river. And when the Northuldra saw the bear sticking his tail in the river—”

“He caught a fish?” Olaf says, hopeful.

Then and there, Elsa decides she better edit the story somewhat. Better to keep Olaf happy for now. He does seem to mature over time… maybe he’ll be able to handle the original version soon enough. Where humans go hunting and the fox tricks the bear into being burned up alive. “Yes, the bear did catch a fish with his tail.”

“You hesitated.”

“Yes, because… the fish bites so hard, that it bites most of the bear’s tail off!”

“Oh no!”

“Yes! And humans were there to laugh along with the fox. Ever since then, bears have had short tails, and yet they are the greatest fishermen of all!”

“Brilliant!” Olaf proclaims. “What smart critters!”

“Okay, little guy,” Elsa says, adjusting the blanket over Olaf more fully. She sighs happily, thinking of her own bed back home—back north—although certain she will have a peaceful night’s rest here in Arendelle now that she’s finally free of royal duties. “It’s time for bed.”

“Oh yes, I know,” Olaf agrees. Turning slightly into the bed, he says, “I’m so glad you’re here sometimes, Elsa. You sigh so much now. I’m so happy for you.”

_Huh?_ Although she was about to stand up, Elsa sits back down on the edge of the bed, gently rubbing his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Olaf, why is sighing a good thing?”

He yawns, comfortable. “Don’t you know?”

Elsa’s confused silence seems to answer him.

Olaf shakes his head, sitting back up again. He takes Elsa’s hand in both of his. Looking up at her, he says, “You really are Anna’s sister. How do neither of you know when you’re in love?”

Elsa jumps, streams of snow from her feet pushing her body up from the floor and back. Internal screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKIN' OLAF!
> 
> Also, bell hooks. She's got this little book called "all about love," I fuckin' love it. When I post the sources at the end of this thing, that's one of them.


	13. Chapter 12—Anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is EXPLICIT CONTENT of a sexual nature in this chapter! Look of the * by itself if you want to avoid this content (it goes from the * to the end of the chapter).

**—Chapter 12—Anything—**

**—Elsa—**

Elsa lays in bed, but she can’t stay. Her hands are already shaking. Too much. Up she gets, pacing her room beside the window. With each step, frost alights on the floor under her feet—but evaporates quickly as she continues, back and forth. Her powers feel so intuitive now. The freedom of the north has settled her, even as her powers grow stronger. _She’s_ stronger. And yet… No voice of a memory, no call from her magic’s heritage. It’s just herself keeping her up. She hugs herself in the moonlight. Olaf had fallen asleep by the time she had reclaimed control of her body, her voice. Shaking him awake was out of the question. So… now what?

Only when the sunlight begins to trickle into her room does Elsa return to the present. “No… no no no!” _I’ve been up all night?!_ She sits herself heavily onto her bed, holding a pillow to her stomach for comfort, and Elsa can feel her eyes entirely too much. Groaning, she flops back onto the bed, pressing her hands to her face. Questions still float about her brain, but she can’t deny that what little sense they make is, at this point, due to fatigue.

_I need coffee_.

Heading toward the door, Elsa rubs her face and quietly opens it. Closing it gently, she sneaks down the halls to leave the royal bed chambers. Her years of seclusion and her years as a queen led to an innate skill in sneaking around this castle, knowing when who would be where.

When Elsa makes it down to the kitchens, she smiles with satisfaction. She sets about finding a kettle, checking cabinets quickly. While she had snuck to the kitchens for chocolate and other treats before, she had never come down here hoping to prepare something herself. But times change.

Finding a copper kettle very similar to her own at home in the north, she whispers to herself, “Yes!” Now to find coffee. A large ceramic container sits nearby and proves fruitful to her goal. Without much more time, Elsa brings a stovetop to life, and she prepares her kettle as she would back in her ice-goahti.

Someone’s coming down the stairs, and Elsa stands upright suddenly, hands crossing in front of her. The door opens to reveal Kristoff, yawning in his night robe. “Oh,” he says when he sees her. “Hey Elsa.” His hair sticks up funny.

She smiles, a little relieved. Her hands remain where they are though. If her (now Anna’s) esteemed assistant, Kai, had walked in, she couldn’t have contained her embarrassment. “Good morning. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he says, leaning against a large work table beside her. “I come down here every morning for an early start.” He gazes at the kettle with a small smile. “Nice to have some company.”

“Right.”

“Kai and the cooks won’t be here for another half an hour. It’s Saturday.”

Elsa smirks to herself, chuckles at how well the young man knows her. But that thought brings her back to the thoughts that plagued her night. _Who knows me as well as my family? Olaf knows something about me… Do they all know something about me that I don’t know myself?_

The worry must be written across her face, because Kristoff moves suddenly. He grabs the kettle— _oh shit, it’s ready!_ Calmly, he reaches with experienced confidence for two mugs in another cabinet. He glances her way.

“Cool if we share?”

“Are you sure you want your coffee this way? I’ve taken to Yelena’s method.”

“Oh, ‘cowboy’ coffee? Grounds in the kettle? Yeah, that’s usually how I make it myself. No point in straining and all while out harvesting ice.” Kristoff smiles gently, approval in his eyes.

“Then please,” Elsa replies. “Help yourself.” She didn’t realize he liked cowboy stories.

He pours carefully, going back and forth between each cup, stopping abruptly when he spots the dregs. Handing her a mug, Kristoff lifts his. “Cheers.” As the hot liquid passes through Elsa lips, she smiles.

_Maybe I’ll be fine today._

The illusion dies quickly. “You look awful,” Kristoff says over his cup.

His directness, his lack of concern for decorum, endears him to Elsa. If she and Anna are alike in this way, no wonder her sister adores him. _If only I could be like him._ “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“What, was the mattress too soft?” Kristoff teases, taking another sip.

She chuckles. “No, just lost in thought.” _Does he not sleep well at night?_

“Not another voice calling?”

“No,” Elsa says, gulping down coffee. “No mortal danger to report.” But that reminds her of Maren. She didn’t see her fall in, but the twins’ tale gives her more imaginative fuel than she’d care for. If something happened to Maren, if she wasn’t around to help, what then?

“What thoughts kept you up?” Kristoff asks.

Maybe it would be easier to pick his brain than Anna’s. Elsa doesn’t want to pepper little Olaf with questions, no matter how observant he is. Does she even want to confide in her family though? She can feel her face heating up. “Olaf said something to me last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

To her surprise, Kristoff chuckles. “Did he ask you the probability of life outside the known solar system?”

“No! He’s asked about that?”

“Oh yeah. Did he ask you where babies come from?”

“He might as well have.”

For a moment, Kristoff looks panicked, when a noise meets them from outside the kitchen doors. “Kristoff? The queen has asked that you finish your coffee and come upstairs.” Kai.

“Coming!” he calls in response. “Let’s go.”

\---

Elsa gets dressed, makes up her face a little more than usual, and quickly braids her hair. Looking at herself in the mirror, she pulls on the braid. It feels restrictive. But walking about Arendelle with her hair down feels like marching out naked. Moving on, she goes back down the hall, knocks on her sister’s door. “Anna?”

The door opens immediately.

Anna, her hair barely tamed, pulls her in. “Thank God you’re here!”

“Anna!”

“I need your help. I wanna do this thing with my hair, but I can’t see the back and I need help.”

“Okay, okay,” Elsa assures her. “Go sit down.” Anna obeys, sitting in front of her vanity. She’s already wearing her dress, a beautiful gown the likes of which would leave Elsa burning up... both for its layers and its queenly beauty. She always wore such peculiar dresses for a queen herself. People tolerated it, tolerated her, out of love. She hopes. Anna _is_ queenly though; she is one of them. Only now can Elsa see how unfit—uncomfortable—she was in this role by comparison.

Elsa steps behind her sister, looking at their reflections in the mirror, and takes the comb that Anna offers.

“When they unveiled the statue, we got my hair to do this beautiful crown thing, just like when you were coronated. I wanted to show you.”

“Of course,” Elsa hums.

She swiftly undoes the attempt that Anna made with her hair and starts to comb it out to begin anew. Years of banning anyone—servants included—from touching her have acquainted Elsa well with the tools to help Anna in her more desperate hours of decorative hygiene.

“There we go,” Elsa says, placing a final pin. Looking up at Anna’s reflection, she softens. “Look at you!” She lays her hands upon Anna’s shoulders and catches her eye in the mirror. “You look beautiful.”

“You look beautifuller!” Anna replies, wiggling her eyebrows at her jokingly. They share a laugh.

“Oh Anna, you look like a queen.” Her red hair mounted upon her like a crown, Elsa bows slightly as she carefully sits Anna’s actual crown atop her head.

“Learned from the best. Now come on! I’m taking you to the statue before you leave today.”

\---

The moment they step out the palace doors, Gale greets the sisters. Anna sighs into the spinning air, and Elsa smiles at the sight despite Gale mussing up her own hair. “You two seem to get along.”

“Gale says hi almost every day,” Anna responds, waiting for the distinctive chittering wind to move along before taking further steps. “She’s not as strong here, but as long as there isn’t a blizzard, she visits me for a minute.”

“She must really like you.”

Anna chuckles a little to herself. “Or she likes you. And mom.”

“Mother?” Elsa asks, sleepily tracking her sister’s footsteps toward the cart adorned with early spring garlands just outside the castle gates.

“Yeah, I think she and Gale had a special connection.”

If she had more coffee, Elsa thinks she’d ask more about that. As things stand, she wants to hurry back north and sleep in the bed she’s become accustomed to. But she gets in the cart, and Kristoff follows behind to drive them out into the city. Comfortable silence surrounds them. Or at least, Elsa suspects the other two are comfortable.

“Anna, I have a question.”

“Anything, Elsa.”

“Last night, Olaf said something peculiar,” Elsa says, holding her hand up to her temple the way she does whenever she feels stressed and a little embarrassed.

“We’re here!” Anna shouts, waiting for no one to help her out of the carriage. Elsa looks up, stunned. The sky is full of light, but dark clouds pass eastward, sure to rain just past Arendelle’s capital city. The eerie light upon the bronze statues glow against their dark backdrop, and suddenly her parents as children seem larger than life. This early, only a few city dwellers roam the streets, getting ready for their day (or finishing up their Friday night). The few who catch sight of the royal sisters pause, giving unrequested bows and curtsies, smiles all around with frequent glances up at the statue. It seems to be a welcome addition to the scenery.

“What do you think, Elsa?”

“It’s beautiful.” Anna’s face glows at the compliment. “Anna, can I ask you something?”

“Anything!”

Elsa turns again to the statue. “Olaf said something peculiar last night.”

“Right, right. He does do that more and more lately.”

“He said,” Elsa starts, but pauses, unsure. “He said he thinks that I’m…”

Anna glances at her, as does Kristoff. “Yes?”

“That I’m… in love?”

Kristoff falls back off his seat and into the cart. Anna’s face drains of color, making her freckles stand out like stars. A churning in her stomach tells Elsa that they both know something.

“Anna—”

“Elsa!” she places her hand atop Elsa’s mouth, grabbing one of her arms. She has half a mind to hum, form ice across her lips to force Anna to let her go. Anna’s eyes dart about, clearly trying to form words. “Elsa, I… I wish he hadn’t said anything to you about that.”

“About what?” she says, muffled by Anna’s hand. Thin frost does form and Anna lifts her hand. “What’s gotten into all of you? I didn’t even get to ask my question.”

Anna’s eyes widen, her eyebrows go up her entire forehead. “What was the question?” Now that she has to admit it, Elsa’s stomach turns on her. She still fears the consequences of speaking up. Even as Kristoff sits up in the cart, looking at her like the most perplexed man, she struggles.

“Elsa?”

Just a breath louder than silence, she asks, “Am I? Who with?”

Kristoff groans, falling into the cart again. Anna reacts far less. She remains completely motionless, every muscle as struck solid as ice. Elsa can see her sister’s brain whirling away in a frenzy, though. Embarrassment washes over her. The desire to hide behind snow and ice grows in her; she can feel that old kind of desire that pushed her into the north mountain years ago.

“Elsa,” Anna says, taking both her hands. She sees someone very serious where her playful little sister stands. Anna is stronger than her in an important way—she’s faced her family’s death in a manner Elsa can only dread. It’s surprising to see that depth of strength in Anna right now. What could it mean? Why call upon that strength right this second? Anna speaks again, “These are questions I cannot answer for you.”

“But Olaf told you when you were in love with Kristoff.”

“Wait, he did what?” Kristoff asks, sticking his head up from the edge of the cart.

“I needed to know Kristoff loved me in order to _not_ die,” Anna combats, briefly sticking her tongue out at her big sister. She pulls Elsa into a hug. “But this time, your _life_ depends on figuring this out yourself, Elsa.”

“My life?”

“Choose to look inside. And when you figure it out, don’t run from your feelings.”

“Anna?”

“I mean, maybe not her whole life,” Kristoff offers.

Anna shoots him a glare. Turning back, she mutters, “I can’t believe Olaf said that. He is so grounded!”

“I’m confused.” Elsa feels irritation mounting, due only in part to her growing exhaustion.

“I know,” Anna says. “And I’m sorry. But really, I think it’s best that I don’t tell you what I think.”

“Who are you and where is my sister?”

Together, Anna and Elsa laugh. It’s true—the sister Elsa knew before she went to Athohallen for the first time and the sister she has known since are two very different people.

**—Honeymaren—**

“That should do it!” Honeymaren grunts, reaching her brush up above the top of the last doorway. Reindeer butter now adorned each mantle of the tribes’ homes. Ryder leans down, letting her off her shoulders. She stumbles slightly, but they chuckle. “Do you think we should do Elsa’s house?”

Ryder looks up, toward the nearby Gate and fjord. With a grin, he asks, “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Honeymaren turns, already smiling. She can see Elsa’s approach through the bay. Honeymaren clambers down to meet her. Despite the warmer weather, she’s relieved to see that Elsa still rides the Nokk as a solid beast. _Much safer._

“Elsa! Welcome back!” Maren calls. She feels little Bruni arrive and jump on her shoulder, Gale rushing against her back out to meet Elsa, and she’s fairly certain she’ll feel the earth quake under the earth giants’ footsteps within the next hour or two.

“Honeymaren!” Elsa calls as the Nokk reaches the beach, prances around the dry earth one more time before the end of their journey together. Once she dismounts, they meet forehead to forehead once more before the Nokk jumps into the water. Honeymaren can’t help a shiver in a bad way, thinking the water spirit glared at her on his way back into the bay. But then Elsa hugs her and all of Honeymaren’s focus returns to her body. Every nerve in her dances with delight, noting the tightness of Elsa’s grip, her head bowed ever so slightly into her shoulder, into her neck, the feel of Elsa’s back rising and falling under her hands as she breathes. As Elsa pulls back, Honeymaren’s brow knits together, but she smiles because of—and despite of—her confusion.

“I have a question for you!”

“Oh?” But she’s pulling Elsa up the embankment. Snow melts all around them, and Honeymaren delights in it. As a child born in spring, she can’t help but feel especially appreciative of the return of the sun and warmth. They mount the hill, and Honeymaren watches Elsa’s face as she takes in their village. Preparations for a festival are underway, made obvious by the many hands at work on crafts, treats, and decorations. Butter sits on every doorpost. The air is still chilly enough that the sun doesn’t melt it any of it… but soon.

“The festival for the start of spring is coming up!” Honeymaren says, “When the butter starts to melt, the party starts!”

“Party?” Elsa asks. She looks intrigued but tired. Her eyes rest on Honeymaren in a way she isn’t used to, like she’s looking for something.

_Ignore it_. “Soon, we’ll pack up our goahtis and head northeast, toward summer pastures that the elders have told us about all our lives. And for that to happen, we have to celebrate! Apparently, we used to do that closer to the winter solstice, but with the mist, our families couldn’t get the butter to melt that early.”

That’s when Ryder saunters up to them. “Elsa, welcome back!” He gives her the biggest hug. But Honeymaren can’t help but notice a strange look on Elsa’s face, something starting with curiosity and ending in discomfort. _What’s wrong?_ she wonders. “It’s great to see you.”

“Thank you, Ryder. But I’ve only been gone a few days.”

“A few days can be a long time,” Honeymaren says. “Snow was a lot deeper before you left!” Then, she gets a better look at Elsa’s face. “Uh, Elsa? Are you okay?”

She shrugs her shoulders up, hiding. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

“Oh no! Come on, then. Let’s get you home. We’ll talk about the festival later.” Honeymaren takes Elsa’s hand and waves Ryder off. She guides them through the trees, and now it’s obvious that Elsa’s tired—she trips frequently, shooting little icy skid marks as she does. Elsa reacts slowly to Honeymaren’s grip, watches their hands instead of the trail like she’s trying to concentrate. “Nearly there.”

“Maren?”

She pauses, not ten strides from the ice goahti. Looking back, she smiles, but the look Elsa gives her makes her heart tremble. Although she gave Elsa permission to call her Maren like Ryder does, she wonders if this is the first time she’s said that name aloud. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course!”

“Will you come in?”

Honeymaren nods, sucking in her bottom lip. She leads Elsa into the house, waits as Elsa gets into her bed, sits on the edge. Despite her better judgment, she reaches up to brush some of Elsa’s hair out of her face. “You gonna be okay?”

Although Elsa pauses, she nods. “I will be.”

“Good.” Seeing Elsa like this feels like looking at a precious child, all tucked in and trusting.

“Honeymaren, can I ask you something?”

She smiles. “Anything.”

Elsa chuckles at that, but she’s not sure why. “Have you ever been in love?”

Honeymaren whips her head away, pulling her hands into fists on her thighs. Her chest tightens and, as much as she fights it, she feels herself blush. Without looking back, she attempts to speak. “I—uh—maybe?” Nothing. “Why? …Elsa?”

When she finally looks back over her shoulder, Honeymaren sees Elsa fast asleep. Her mouth is slightly open, her hair falling back over her face. Gently, she cards a hand through Elsa’s hair, careful not to wake her. Her hand trembles when she pulls it away. Part of her wants to bend over, lay a kiss on her brow, curl up behind Elsa and hold her through her slumber. But she resists. Instead, Honeymaren stands, leaves. She heads straight for her own home, confident that Ryder won’t be there for some time yet.

Entering, she pushes the door shut behind her, hooking the loop of rope on the handle over a hook to the side. They mainly lock the door like this to weather storms, but she’s never begrudged Ryder some privacy when he needs it; that courtesy should go both ways. Frustrated, sad, but determined, Honeymaren marches to her bed, throwing her hat off as she sits. But she leans down onto her elbows, face in her hands.

Doing this just gets harder and harder. It feels wrong, not because of the act itself, but because she knows she’s lying, hiding a part of herself from Elsa—from a _friend_. Fantasies, dreams, desire never made her falter until _this woman_. She feels responsibility for Elsa in a way she struggles to understand herself. Honeymaren told Elsa about the fifth spirit, acted as her _de facto_ guide into immersion in her newfound cultural heritage. The secret thoughts swimming around her mind seem too intense to be harmless. They seem to demand _consent_ , some kind of permission.

Hiding a few different parts of herself from Elsa, if she’s honest with herself.

Never the crying type, Honeymaren sits up, pressing her thumb and pointer finger upon her tear ducts, forcing her body to focus.

_Just get it done_ , she tells herself. _Then stress out, then figure it out._

The need growing in her abdomen asserts itself. As if she hadn’t just spent several minutes contemplating her feelings, Maren quickly strips. She yanks out her braid, wanting the shield of her hair. Setting herself up on her back on her bed, she screws her eyes shut. _Remember the last dream…_ *

_Bright spring daylight, warm breeze, purple flowers, deep in the forest, a bed of long grasses, folded under them, so soft. Elsa lays beside her, kissing her soft. So slight, and her body too is soft._

Honeymaren starts lightly skimming her fingers over her own torso, lingering slightly at her sternum.

_Elsa’s hands touch her, explore her shape and size and form. Honey’s more determined, more certain of where she wants to go, rubbing circles across Elsa’s back until she’s comfortable. Then she comes around Elsa’s torso, lightly massaging her breasts._

Her hands come to rest on her chest. Although she fantasizes of using gentle hands with Elsa, Honeymaren forcefully pinches herself, biting her lips. The need is growing too fast. Even her legs are already moving, aching to press against another body.

_Moans fill Elsa’s kisses, leaning into Honey’s light touch. She wants to hear Elsa moan aloud, unimpeded. So she leans up, kissing the side of Elsa’s neck just below her ear. One hand remains on her pale breast, kneading softly, while another hand shifts down to caress her ass. It’s just what Elsa needs, and Honey receives the moans she desires._

For a brief moment, reality and fantasy collide when Honeymaren flips over to her stomach, just like the dream, as though she really held Elsa in her arms and needed to be on top of her.

_With strong, careful arms, she rolls them both over, pressing down on Elsa’s body. She pulls Honey’s face up to meet her again for an icy kiss that makes Honey shiver her leg against Elsa’s center._

She curls her back toward the ceiling, pulling a bunched-up pelt under her forehead. Her arm pushing her body up off the bed, that hand keeps pinching her own nipples mercilessly. Meanwhile, she lets the other arm slide between her legs, rough, trying to imagine—

_Another joyful cry from Elsa, who lifts her own thigh against Honey’s clit. Smiling into a perfect kiss, Honey keeps warming her up, slowly rubbing her own core against Elsa’s leg even as she drags her thigh against those heavenly curls. “Are you ready?” Honey asks, smiling, feeling confident. Feeling happy. Even proud of seeing her partner smile at the promise of greater pleasure._

Honeymaren’s hand shakes, and she presses it up against her center. Her torso falls to the bed. She finally opens her eyes, this time tears pushing out of the corners while she pulls the balled-up pelt closer to her face. Even as she imagines going slow, teasing, caring for her make-believe lover, she presses the palm of her hand against herself relentlessly, managing to just barely finger herself from the difficult angle. Her hips roll against the bed, into her own hand, and she knows it can’t be long now.

_“Elsa,” Honey groans, pulling out of the kiss. “Are you ready?”_

_“Yes,” she breathes, lips full yet insatiable. She sits up slightly, tucking her head into Honey. Elsa’s hands wrap around her back, holding on tight as a finger slowly swirls around her entrance. When Honey begins to push in—_

Honeymaren’s body moves with feverish speed, and she bites the base of her own thumb—

_Elsa bites her neck, pulls her hair, whimpers. They rest for a moment, until she settles in, melting in Honey’s embrace. “Go,” she tells Honey._

The cry, muffled against Honeymaren’s palm and blankets, remains hidden within her home. Her body thrashes, collapses. Fulfilled, at least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HM is desperate y'all.
> 
> Writing Anna is so fun, I gotta write her a story once I get Elsamaren out of my system. Which might be never, unfortunately.


	14. Chapter 13—Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's shorter than average.

**—Chapter 13—Closer—**

**—Honeymaren—**

As promised by the Sun, the butter on the doorways of the village’s goahtis starts to melt not long after the last of winter’s snow does. The festival begins. (Even if spring snow is definitely a thing.)

Honeymaren and Ryder accompany Elsa. Colors fill the air, nature itself fully adorned for the occasion. She cheers with them through the reindeer races, delights with them watching the earth giants construct statues. They guide her through watching the _joik_ competitions (Honeymaren abstains from participating this year). Ryder takes the lead while showing her how to do the prayer for the mental health of the Northuldra, through the grace of Beaivi—his technique is perfect. Yelena even pulls him up to demonstrate for everyone else, and Honeymaren beams with pride.

Later, while they watch the reindeer show-riding competition, Ryder brings Elsa and her something special: Sacral butter to taste alongside some fresh flatbread and cloudberry preserves. Elsa, sitting demurely on the ground, accepts with puzzled interest. Honeymaren sits on a log beside her, thoroughly excited by the treat. But Ryder refrains from joining them, winking at his sister. Maybe he's onto something, because Elsa watches her intently as Honeymaren smells the butter with nostalgic delight, spreading it and preserves across toasty bread. Licking her lips, she glances over at Elsa out of the corner of her eye. 

“Can I help you?” Honeymaren asks slyly, after she's enjoyed a bite of her favorite treat.

“I’m just not sure I understand what it all means,” Elsa says.

“And I probably wouldn’t understand Christmas the first time through. But you will,” Honeymaren replies.

Elsa nods, spreading butter across her flatbread thoughtfully. She curiously licks her knife, making Honeymaren’s inside squirm pleasantly. Then Honeymaren returns her attention to her own food, looks up at the reindeer, and sighs.

“You okay?” Elsa asks.

She sighs through her teeth, nodding toward the cooking fires not so far off, the smell of meat roasting for tonight's feast. “An introduction to the meaning of life,” Honeymaren says. “Sometimes it requires letting go.”

Choking. She spins her head to Elsa, who waves her off. Looking her up and down, she nonetheless pats Elsa's back forcefully. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Fine!” Elsa manages, just barely. “Continue.”

Honeymaren waits a moment anyway, waiting to hear Elsa take a full breath. Only once their eyes meet and gets a nod, she obeys. “I just meant that our lives are incredibly dependent on our environment, especially the reindeer. But for our lives to continue, we have to let go of reindeer we love. Which eventually…” Elsa’s gaze bores into her. “The favor’s returned. But you regret it. And that’s actually the point. One of the points?” She shrugs. When she looks back, Elsa's watching the reindeer without actually watching them. “You look deep in thought.”

Nodding again, Elsa licks the knife again instead of just eating her food, sacral butter made from _very_ -difficult-to-obtain reindeer milk. She scoots up onto the log, sitting beside Honeymaren and lays a hand on her shoulder. “You sound so wise.”

“I’m only twenty-six,” Maren shrugs. “Twenty-seven soon!”

With a shy smile, Elsa says, “I’m only just twenty-five.”

“What?!” Honeymaren’s taken aback. She almost drops her food. “I’m older than you?!” Her favorite food.

“Yes?”

“But… but you were a queen!”

“Yes?” This time, Elsa reaches out, rubbing Honeymaren’s back affectionately.

_Something’s different_. Honeymaren’s sure of it. Elsa smiles more, keeps eye contact longer. She quirks her head to the side, noticing the long silence as Honeymaren watches her. Honeymaren shakes her head and smiles. “I just can’t believe you’re as… mature as you are. And that you’re Ryder’s age.”

“He’s pretty mature,” Elsa says, turning her gaze to Ryder, speaking with one of the other men. Honeymaren recognizes his hand motions; they’re going over the details of the ritual he just helped lead.

“Twist my arm. He is, I admit it.”

Beside her—closer than a moment ago—Elsa chuckles. For a while, they eat in silence. Then she speaks up again, surprising Honeymaren. “Anna’s like that. I performed the part as a queen in Arendelle. She _is_ the part. I can’t explain it, not sure where it came from.” Her smile falters though. “Actually, I do know where it came from.”

Honeymaren watches Elsa, expecting her to continue. She instead tries to contain her surprise when Elsa stands, walks around the log, behind her, rests her hands on Honeymaren's shoulders. The squirming in her stomach rears, stronger than ever, clawing up her spine to the base of her neck. She’s glad that Elsa can’t see her face right now. “Elsa?”

“Don’t mind me.”

_Easy enough_ , Honeymaren thinks sarcastically to herself. She already feels the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. “A—are you enjoying the festival?”

Elsa rests her chin on top of Honeymaren's head, and she feels her nod. “Mhmm. It’s different. I like it.” After a pause, Honeymaren leans to the side and looks up at Elsa, who looks down into her eyes in return, smiling. Cautiously, Honeymaren lifts a hand to Elsa’s where it rests on her shoulder. Like before… There’s a flinch, but Elsa eyes stays.

The gaze is a little too intense, even for Honeymaren, and she glances away. But she smirks against the blush she feels rising in her cheeks. “You wanna go for a walk?”

“Sure.” Elsa shrugs.

She keeps holding Elsa’s hand as she stands, turns them toward the trees. Still bare but budding, the forest shakes and shimmers in the wind. A beautiful, blue sky shines upon them. The creek gurgles by nearby. Honeymaren takes deep breaths as they walk, anxious and eager all at once. Now or never.

**—Elsa—**

“You asked me a question the other day that I never answered.”

Elsa glances up from the distractingly beautiful forest around her. Maren holds her hand, their fingers loosely interlaced. “Did I?”

Maren pauses, looking back as they reach a small clearing just out of sight of the festival. It vaguely reminds Elsa of Athohallen's visions of her mother. “You don’t remember?”

Shaking her head, Elsa shrugs. She wants to pull her hand away, take her regular defensive stance—the queen stance. Still, another feeling fights for her body. The queen stance makes her feel stiff, makes her feel like she’s back in Arendelle in the worst sense.

Maren’s speaking. Elsa tries to pay attention. _Don’t be a bad friend!_ So, her hand stays.

“Sorry, I missed that,” she says to Maren, attempting to fight through it. Nausea hits her, or at least she thinks it’s nausea. Something is up, maybe the food? Why is she hoping it's nausea?

“It’s okay,” Maren chuckles, but she keeps blushing. It’s not that hot, why does she look like she’s sweating? Maybe the festival food got her, too? “Y—you asked me if I’d ever been in love.”

“Oh!” Elsa gasps. “I don’t remember that at all, I was so tired.” Now it’s her turn to blush. But it goes to show how much she trusts Maren that she apparently asked that when sleeplessness overtook her inhibitions. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No!” Maren says loudly. Her grip on Elsa’s hand tightens. “No, it’s okay!”

Her stomach squirms again. Elsa focuses on her hands. The one still linked with Honeymaren’s feels unbearably hot, and the other that sits atop her heart buzzes with magic, cooling off her chest. What an embarrassing question to ask Honeymaren. _Sure, I’d had a weird day before that, but that’s no excuse._ Her mind suddenly glitches, imagining that Maren's been in love before. The things Anna said. Quick enough, she suppresses it, tries to focus.

“Elsa?”

She looks up. Honeymaren’s smiling gently. “I could tell you the answer, if you like?”

That’s when Elsa snaps. She yanks her hand away from Maren, who looks shocked. “I don’t need to know!”

Maren bites her lip. “Okay?”

“I don’t want to know,” she insists, but her voice cracks. The air around her shimmers with tension, and she can feel frost forming under her bare feet.

“But Elsa—” Maren says, softening even further. “Can I just…?”

“Just what?” Elsa spins on her heel, crosses her arms, but can’t move. She can’t leave. Her breathing becomes quick, shallow. She can hear Maren take steps toward her, senses her. A hand rests on her shoulder, tugs gently so that she turns Elsa to face her. She only wanted to glance up, but Maren’s face is so gentle and concerned, those big brown eyes holding Elsa with as much force as the deep cold at Athohallen. Her pulse pounds in her ears. Maren’s thumb rubs her shoulder. Then she steps closer. So close. Impossibly close. Breathing stops.

“ _Elsa,”_ Maren whispers. Whether Elsa is seeing things move in slow motion or Maren moves that slowly, all sense of time ceases as Maren lifts her other hand to Elsa’s cheek. Trapped in Maren’s gaze, Elsa realizes that Maren's looking from her eyes to her lips, coming towards her. A sudden wave of _something_ rolls through her core, and Elsa wonders if she has ever felt so terrified.

Maren’s face is so near, their noses nearly meet. The grip on her shoulder switches to her other cheek, Maren’s eyes close, and the softest skin touches Elsa’s lips. Without realizing she’s doing it, Elsa’s eyes flutter closed, she finds herself kissing back, melting into it. For a moment, the only thing in the world is the sense of pleasure dancing all through Elsa’s body, the sweetest, softest rhythm at her lips.

Only a moment.

But her mind catches up, and Elsa jerks back wildly. Maren looks surprised—no, frightened. “I—! Elsa! Is this not—?”

“I have to go!” Elsa squeaks, runs instinctually toward the stream.

“I’m so sorry, Elsa!” Honeymaren cries—really cries, Elsa can hear the tears welling up.

The Nokk launches out of the creek, and Elsa mounts without a second glance back. She ices the water spirit with her hands immediately. As they run, she ignores seeing streaks of tears on Honeymaren’s cheeks, finally hearing a choked, “Wait, Elsa!” in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't hurt me, we're only halfway through


	15. Chapter 14—The Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everybody. This week's chapters are hard. This one in particular is gonna be harsh--if it was a movie, this chapter is rated R for language and some internalized homophobia angst, too--but I promise: It. Is. Going. To. Be. Okay.
> 
> \--- is a change of scene, *** refers to a dream, +++ refers to a flashback

**—Chapter 14—The Bridge—**

**—Elsa—**

“Gale, please!” Elsa shouts sternly. Gale’s angry. 

The wind blows her back, tripping Elsa over a tree root. “Fine! Anna won’t know about it—at all!” Gale shakes the tree branches around Elsa as she stands back up. Nearby, Nokk whinnies. He’s anxious to return to the sea what with the beach just below them. At long last, Gale blows through Elsa’s hair gently, giving in. Sighing, Elsa holds out her letter, feverishly written, for Gale to take to Arendelle. With warmer weather, Elsa knows Anna will be tempted to visit the Northuldra, and her queenly duties will lessen over the summer. She deserves to know that Elsa won’t be there if she starts making plans.

Elsa turns to the water spirit, climbs onto Nokk’s back, feeling the tears in her eyes respond to his proximity. In a single great leap, they jump down to the Dark Sea. Nokk expertly maneuvers around the choppy waves, clearly enjoying the wild nature of the ocean. Elsa completely trusts in Nokk, and leans back, her tearful eyes looking skyward.

How could this happen?

_What_ happened?!

_What am I doing?_

_How could I let this happen?_

The sound of Maren’s cries resounds in Elsa’s mind.

_I hate this._

“Maren…” _Fucking fuck fuck fucking fuck._ “I’m so sorry…”

_What am I doing?_

Elsa stands on the shore of Athohallen, halfway up to the crevice that serves as the door to her hidden refuge. Nokk nudges her shoulder, but she doesn’t respond. Wind blows her dress, her hair, her cape-like sleeves. She longs to enter, but her head floods with memories of Maren. If Athohallen conjures up Honeymaren—earlier today, Elsa’s other memories of her, possibly even times Elsa wasn’t present—she couldn’t bear it. The squirming in her stomach is gone at least, and yet incredibly heavy guilt and sadness take its place. She misses the nausea that wasn’t nausea, misses the panic.

But she can’t go back.

Her shoulders start to quiver first, followed by watery vision. Elsa hides her face in her hand, her fingertips just touching her as they, too, shake. She slowly falls to her knees, can’t stop the crying, curls over around herself. Nokk nickers softly and lays down beside her. Although the glacier itself extends a sense of motherly embrace, Elsa needs more love than she knows she’ll ever find here.

\---

Unable to bring herself to approach the chambers of Athohallen below, Elsa climbs the glacier, carving intricate stairs into the ice. Nokk doesn’t follow. From on top, sunlight shines brilliantly, reflecting off the ice with ferocity. She sighs, wonders if this is another one of those things that doesn’t bother her but might easily overwhelm someone else. Wiping at her eyes, swollen from crying, she starts walking. While the ice remains enormous, sturdy, and resistant to warmer weather, she can see rock in the distance with only dollops of melting snow. Spring has just arrived here, as well.

Unlike in Northuldra, wildlife seems to abstain from the island. When she reaches land, the sun setting, Elsa hears very little beside the creaking of the glacier and the sea in the distance. She realizes she has become accustomed to the sounds of people—fire, conversation, music, children—as well as the sounds of the forest itself springing back to life.

Time passes, Elsa looking blindly at the ground underfoot, watching her own shadow. With night at hand, Elsa lifts her hands, letting her powers prickle at her fingertips. She pulls her arms up, lifting another ice goahti into existence. It’s small, it’s impractical, no bigger than she is. She wants to sleep, nothing more.

\---

Late the next day, Elsa comes out of hiding, pushed on by hunger. She makes a walking staff of ice, similar to those carried by most Northuldra. Taking it, she sets out to explore the island more. The journey doesn’t prove fruitful. From a distance, Elsa spots a few small groups of birds, an arctic fox, a freshwater creek pushed out from a little hot spring, and little vegetation beyond moss. Just when she’s about a mile short of completing a full loop of Athohallen, ready to give up on food entirely, she hears strange, trumpeting sounds.

Carefully, she climbs toward the nearby cliffside, peers down at the beach. Seals line cold shore, snorting and barking at each other, scooching into and out of the water at their leisure. _There must be plenty of fish…_

Elsa makes haste toward the stairs she made the previous day. When she gets down to the beach, Nokk materializes, antsy for a ride.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

He snorts, prances, neighs at her, but Elsa wades into the water and ignores him. It’s quite cold, but nothing compared to Athohallen’s depths. “Shh! You’re going to scare them off.”

As it turns out, Elsa’s pretty good at scaring the fish on her own. Several hours go by before she even gets close to catching one, by hand or staff or ice bubble. But Nokk does contribute to her failures, frequently jumping at and nudging her.

“Stop it!” Elsa shouts, and the water spirit startles, dashes off into the distance, circles back and returns into the sea. In a moment of bitterness, she turns and takes one of her dress’s capes in her hand, forms a knife of ice in the other, and cuts it off. Then the other. They get in the way of fishing anyway. Suddenly, a small group of fish dash toward Elsa. She sees Nokk herding them under the water, and finally with his help, she traps two fish in a water-filled bubble of ice. Delighted for her, the Nokk prances up to Elsa. “Thanks,” she sighs, petting his nose fondly.

\---

When Elsa wakes up, the sunrise reflects such bright orange light into her little tent of ice that she can’t go back to sleep despite her best efforts. She grumbles her way out of the little room, but holds herself back when she gets outside. Across much of the land alongside the river of ice, bright pink flowers bloom. Much of what she assumed to be woody, creeping thorns glow in the sunlight. Although she starts her day with a “bath” in the hotspring, followed by more “fishing,” she returns to her little campsite and finds herself curious.

She takes out her knife of ice. Cutting off a single flower from the shrubbery, she sniffs it. The idea of staying here indefinitely and surviving solely on campfire fish borders on offensive. Then she realizes that she doesn’t much care if this plant proves poisonous to humans; she plucks a petal and eats it. At first, it’s bitter, and for a second Elsa thinks it must indeed be dangerous, but when she keeps chewing, it turns sweet.

It’ll do for now.

\---

Despite the Nokk’s best efforts to tempt Elsa—with a ride, a trip, a dip in the hot spring—she remains atop Athohallen for two weeks. If Gale can reach Athohallen, she refuses to visit. From both the ocean when she fishes and the stream where she acquires fresh water, Nokk leaps to grab her attention. But the fifth spirit persists. She rises and sleeps with the sun. When the sun goes down, thoughts flood Elsa’s mind…

Athohallen’s memory of her father as a boy.

One of her suitors after another turned away from Arendelle before even arriving.

Ryder, face down in the snow, so relieved to see her.

Finding the lost reindeer while visiting the Earth spirits.

Bruni sleeping on coals.

Watching Honeymaren and Ryder race toward her.

The earth giants changing their forms, showing her their new shapes shyly at first, then excitedly.

Honeymaren, barely conscious in her arms, racing back to Yelena’s goahti.

Flatbread and sacral butter and cloudberry preserves.

Honeymaren crying into Elsa's stomach but refusing to touch her with her hands.

Yelena’s face when Kristoff and she arrived with coffee.

The statue of her parents as kids.

Honeymaren on her lips. _God_ …

Feeling safe and loved within the mysterious glacier chambers just below.

Maren…

***

_Elsa kisses back. Fingertips trail from her cheeks, ghosting over her shoulders, down her arms. Maren carefully holds her hands. As they kiss each other gently, Elsa’s hands reach up, take hold of Honeymaren’s shoulders instead, and Maren lets her hands linger, lightly clasping them around her waist. They separate, look at each other, rest their foreheads together. Held here in her arms, Elsa rests—at long, long last._

***

_Elsa!_

She shoots awake, her hair still in the messy ponytail she’s been using while camping on Athohallen. Without getting up, she sticks her head out of the little opening to her ice tent. The moon hangs low… sunrise maybe an hour or two off. Windy, could make fishing more difficult… She returns to her makeshift bed of moss and a blanket of snow. But something leaves her heart agitated. Elsa could have sworn she heard her name called… _Go back to sleep_ …

Something crashing! Her blue eyes shoot open. She jumps up so fast that her tent of ice collapses around her, revealing the brilliant sunrise’s light.

Turning toward the shore nearest the entrance to Athohallen, Elsa starts running. Something’s wrong—the Dark Sea sounds _wrong_. Before long, she can see the mast of a ship; it must be just off shore. Sure enough, when Elsa reaches the edge of the glacier, standing a hundred of meters directly above the passage to her own sanctum, she can see an Arendellian ship anchored.

Distantly, she knows whose voice she heard calling her name earlier.

“Anna!”

Elsa shoots ice in front of herself and jumps down. A swirling slide of ice grows before her, and she rides it down to the shore. As she walks across the rocky beach, she sees a rowboat approaching through the waves. With a kick, she creates a large chunk of ice in the sea behind it and pulls the boat toward her.

Accompanied by two sailors, Kristoff helps Anna in all her majesty out of the boat.

“Elsa!”

Anger rises in her. “Anna, what do you think you’re doing here?!”

“What _the fuck_ do YOU think you’re doing here?!” Anna shouts back at her, marching forward. Well, screeches. Elsa’s immediately taken aback. Actually, a few steps back as her sister approaches. The closer she gets, the less Elsa can hide. Fear and repentance cross her face against her best efforts. Still Anna looms.

“W—what do you mean?”

Anna holds a wrinkled note out under Elsa’s nose. “What do you think I mean?”

“You crossed the Dark Sea—against my orders—over a letter?” Elsa retaliates, grasping for her former authority over her sister, even though she knows better deep down.

Anna scoffs. “O-ho-kay, _princess_. Fun facts, you died here. Your exact words to me. Exactly like I said would happen! Worst command ever, I saved your life, you’re welcome. Then you abdicated. And I’m queen now.”

“Anna,” Elsa moans, rolling her eyes. “Please!”

“Please what?” Anna mocks, wide eyed. Elsa finds herself struck silent. What _is_ she asking for? “Please let you run away from problems and nearly die every time you have feelings?”

“Excuse me?”

Holding the letter Elsa sent aloft, Anna starts to circle her. “Shall I refresh your memory, dear sister?”

Elsa holds up a hand, her brow furrows. “No! … No, you—you don’t.”

Anna quirks her head at Elsa, the anger on her face turning. Something more sympathetic but still not understanding. “I had to commission an entire ship. You know I hate getting on ships.” It’s true. For six years, Anna has either come to her door or to Elsa directly to fret anytime anyone she cares about gets on a boat of any kind, ever since their parents passed. And when Anna herself has had to get on a ship that leaves the safety of the harbor? Ten times worse. The only reason she didn’t kill Elsa over the ice canoe fiasco was… Elsa died. Just like Anna said. Just like their parents did, here on this very sea…

“I know. What are you doing here?”

“Elsa,” Anna says, shaking the letter again. “Why do you keep running away? You’re not trapped anymore.”

“You don’t understand!”

“No,” Anna says, laughing through a sigh in a way that frightens Elsa. “No, I don’t. But you know what I do know?” She slightly nods her head back to where the rowboat sits on the beach, toward Kristoff who waves from beyond hearing range. Much more quietly, she says, _“I_ nearly shattered a good man by running off with my sister in the mist unannounced, and we had been together for _three years_.”

Kristoff sees them looking his way and waves nervously at Elsa. “Your point?”

“What makes you think Honeymaren will be as steadfast and loyal to you after so short a time if you keep running away from her?!”

Elsa’s jaw drops. She’s stunned. “W—Why are you bringing up Honeymaren?!”

“How _fucking ignorant_ do you think I am?” Anna deadpans, shaking the letter.

“I don’t." Elsa attempts a dismissive defense instead. "But this has nothing whatsoever to do with her.”

“Fine! Then I think _you_ ’ _re_ _fucking ignorant!”_

That hurts. Elsa looks away from Anna. “Did you come all this way just to insult me?” She can’t help the frost budding around her clenched fists, even though she retains control over her powers.

Anna glances at the magic for a moment and walks steadfast to her sister. Elsa flinches at first, wrapping herself in a hug. But sure and steady, Anna approaches and hugs her tight. Tears build up, and she buries her face into Anna’s shoulder. A hand reaches up to cradle the back of her head.

“I’m so tired of being a freak!” Elsa sobs.

Anna’s grip around her tightens and softens all at once. “Elsa!” she hums sadly.

The sobs continue, and Elsa continues to hide her face. Her chest convulses, assuring her that this is, in fact, going to be ugly. “I was so happy there! I didn’t want to mess it up! I don’t know why I ran and… I didn’t want you to know that I—that I’m…”

“You have never been a freak, Elsa,” Anna coos. She rubs circles around Elsa’s back. “You have always been a gift. This too.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Elsa relaxes slightly under her little sister’s kindness. They stand there a while, waiting for her breath to steady.

“Besides, that’s no excuse, Papa made it legal before we even existed. Nobody can do anything to you or I’ll behead them.”

_“Anna!”_

“I’m just kidding,” she says, smiling. More seriously, she adds, “I need you to make yourself see yourself as you _are_ , Elsa. I can’t do it for you anymore.”

“I know who I am,” Elsa counters bitterly.

“Elsa,” Anna admonishes. “This is not the first time you’ve run away from your feelings.” She holds Elsa out by the shoulders, but she still can’t raise her face to meet Anna’s. “You’re too good for this.”

Elsa shakes her head. “I’m no good.”

“I don’t believe that,” Anna says. Seeking Elsa’s eyes, she continues, “And I know you don’t either.”

They pause for a moment. Elsa tries to wipe at her nose as discreetly as possible, and Anna smiles just like their mother used to do. “How…” Elsa starts. “The letter I wrote, I didn’t mention… anyone… any of this.”

Rolling her eyes, Anna replies with the slightest chuckle, “Yes, but who invited you to stay in the north? Who did you snuggle up to and flirt with during girls night… nights… whatever, coronation weekend thing? Who did you run away from just a couple months ago?”

“It was Christmas!”

Anna’s smile disappears, she channels their mother perfectly. “Elsa.”

“We found the library!”

“And yet I should think stopping in Northuldra for a nap would have been much easier than coming to Arendelle every night.” Anna blinks at Elsa deliberately.

“That still doesn’t explain—”

“A bridge has two sides,” Anna says. “Elsa, you kept coming to Arendelle to tell us everything you saw _here_ —”

“Not exactly right here.”

“Hush—here. But it’s like you weren’t even listening to yourself. Why do you think Athohallen shows you what it shows you?”

Elsa steps back. “I think I can figure that out for myself.” In the distance, she can see Kristoff widening his eyes, looking around awkwardly, trying to talk to the sailors. But Anna surprises her with laughter.

“Okay. Good! I want you to figure this out for yourself! But that does not entail running away from everything that makes you uncomfortable. You can’t keep pulling a North Mountain.”

“A North Mountain?”

“A… Elsa-coronation-escapade thing. Not the point! Stop running away from feelings.”

“I didn’t run away from Arendelle,” Elsa asserts.

“I know. You wanted to make us all happy,” Anna says, smiling gently. “Without you. And that made me unhappy, and it made Arendelle unhappy. You don’t make people unhappy by being around them. People _like_ you, Elsa. We _love_ you!”

The ugly crying returns.

Anna hugs her tight anew. “And you can’t run away from what makes _you_ happy! I know it’s not fair. You…” Anna takes a shaky breath herself. “You were kept from your happiness for too long and for the wrong reasons. It breaks my heart, but you’ve come so far…” Elsa stands upright to watch at Anna fighting back her own tears, sucking in her lips with a quirk of her red-haired brow. They had learned so much about their parents, yet Elsa had restrained herself from comment beyond reporting what Athohallen had revealed. She’s been afraid of hurting Anna with the true level of her confusion. It hadn’t occurred to her that Anna felt conflicted as well. Yet in front of her, Anna stands proud, unafraid of her own stormy feelings.

Still, she commissioned a ship. Anna could probably use a break. Elsa looks up at the ship in the distance. “How did you get here? That is _the_ Dark Sea.”

Anna laughs, blows through her lips. “Please, Gale adores me!”

“I really wish you hadn’t.”

“If you don’t want me to follow you into fire, don’t run into fire,” Anna says matter-of-factly, smirking a little.

Something in Elsa’s mind clicks: She hasn’t been protecting the people she loves; she’s been abandoning them. An essential difference between herself and her little sister dawns on her. Anna always wants to do the _right_ thing, whether she likes what the right thing entails or not. Meanwhile, Elsa chases what’s _familiar,_ even when it's unpleasant or downright harmful—always putting herself back in that bedroom prison—whether that’s right by others or not.

Tears well up, a sense of Elsa’s own vulnerability and the depth of her mistakes rolling her over. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Anna.” But Anna pulls a face, looks her up and down. “What?” Elsa asks, her voice cracking.

“When was the last time you took a bath?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anna's been through two movies of some major bullshit, y'all. She needed a minute, and I couldn't stop her. 
> 
> PS The island, including the edible flowers, is based on a real place! Minus the hot spring, that's there cuz hygiene.
> 
> PPS I don't know why I hate the sleeve capes, but I do.
> 
> PPPS I trust nothing I write right now, this application I've been working on all month is due Friday, bear with me when it's time to post the next chapter


	16. Chapter 15—Flinch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There Will Be Angst.
> 
> No warnings.

**—Chapter 15—Flinch—**

**—Elsa—**

“Where’s Olaf?” Elsa asks as she climbs the rope ladder into the ship, conceding to Anna that she would agree to a _chaperone_ back to Northuldra territory.

“He’s still grounded, Kai’s babysitting,” Anna says matter-of-factly.

“He’s not here?” Honestly, Elsa’s disappointed. "Wait... it's been weeks!"

“And look what happened because of what he said,” Anna says nonchalantly. "Technically Sven is probably watching Olaf."

Kristoff adds, climbing up after Elsa, “And I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Elsa looks back and forth between them as they all clamber from the ladder to the deck, the rowboat below them lifted by Arendelle's sailors as soon as they do.. “Don’t you think it’s been a long time to have him on punishment?”

At that, Anna shoots one last dagger of a glance at her sister. But her lips twitch; Anna can’t hide her playfulness from Elsa to save her life. “Don’t you think it’s been a long time since you dealt with your shit?”

Flinching, Elsa retorts, “When did you become such a sailor?”

“Blame the sailors,” Kristoff groans. But Anna smiles at him.

“It’s been so much fun! If I wasn’t so terrified the whole time, I’d be cussing twice as much! Because when you’re on the sea, no one cares! Who knew?”

“Right,” Elsa mutters, rubbing her temple delicately.

As Anna approaches the captain, Kristoff steps up beside Elsa. “It was actually surprisingly smooth sailing on our way up here. The whole crew was shocked.”

Elsa nods. “I suspect the Nokk might have had something to do with that.”

“Really? I always heard that a Nokk was looking for ways to drown people. Especially liars. Which is literally everybody.”

She chuckles, remembering what she’d grown up hearing about magical creatures like fairies and trolls. “I think the Nokk of the Northuldra and Athohallen might be a little unique then. He hasn’t drowned me yet. But he didn’t seem very pleased with my… this.” Elsa shakes her head, hugging herself. An unexpected hand lands on her shoulder.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It looked like Anna gave you a hard-enough time.”

Elsa nods. As the captain calls orders to her sailors, Elsa turns back, looking toward her Athohallen. She wonders, if she had sought refuge in the glacier’s rooms, what would she have seen?

Kristoff leans forward against the taffrail as the anchor lifts from the water, admiring her island from afar. “So, what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“What scared you?” Kristoff only glances her way and spares Elsa too much examination.

Sighing, Elsa mimics his position, leans forward and looks down at the water, slowly churning away from the ship. She mumbles, “Honeymaren kissed me.”

“Oh!” Kristoff mutters low. Elsa nervously glances his way but he still keeps his eyes to himself. In fact, he smiles a little. “That can definitely be scary—for anybody.”

“Yeah.” She swallows thickly as she remembers the kiss.

“Was it like—whoosh!” He says, snapping, “really fast, out of nowhere, like total surprise?”

“I… I guess not, actually,” Elsa admits, blushing. Quieter, she adds, “I think actually, um, she moved very slowly.”

Kristoff nods. Slowly he smiles, his gentle brown eyes on his hands. “Well, that’s kinda sweet, isn’t it?”

For a while, they’re quiet, but Elsa’s hesitant to leave this strange shelter Kristoff’s offered. She didn’t know he could do that. From her quick glances, timid around her... her friend, Elsa can even see him blushing, and wonders if he's recalling when Anna first kissed him. Eventually, when she considers finding Anna, however, Kristoff brings her back to the risky business of talking.

“Did anything… lead up to the kiss?”

“What do you mean?” Elsa asks, whispers.

He scratches at his neck. “You know, like, was Honeymaren acting differently or were you feeling different, or… I dunno, did something special happen? Did something change since you visited us in Arendelle?”

_That is a good question_ , Elsa thinks. Mulling it over several minutes, she suddenly gasps, hands flying to her face in shock.

“Uh,” Kristoff asks, trying to keep his eyes to himself but clearly concerned about her reaction. “Are-are you okay, Els?”

Pouting a little, Elsa meets his eyes. “It was me. _I_ was different!” she croaks.

“Well, wh-what do you mean?” he asks, standing upright. His arm lifts, shifts, like he’s not sure whether to hug her or not. “You were different?”

Elsa nods, grimacing wide-eyed. “It was me,” she whimpers pathetically.

“Uh, I mean... What do you mean?”

“I…” She sighs, closes her eyes, feels herself turning redder than ever. “There was a festival, and Honeymaren was eating something, and I was watching her eat…” It’s too hot; Elsa chills her hands and hides her face from Kristoff behind them. “And I liked watching, but I didn’t know why, so I went behind her because I didn’t want her to know I liked watching her eat, but then I wanted to rub her shoulders and I did, but then my stomach felt weird, and then she looked at me like…” Her fingers part, looking up at Kristoff, pleading for Athohallen knows what to save her from herself. “She looked at me like she wanted to ask me something, or like she was confused maybe, and she held my hand with that look on her face, and then I died!”

Silence.

Gasping for air, Elsa hides again, adding, "And then she kissed me and I ran away!" Already Elsa can feel the tears threatening her on an existential level.

More silence.

Coughing after a minute, Kristoff, finally closes his slack jaw and looks away, patting Elsa’s back. Slowly, she lowers her hands.

“Uh… well, I’m uh, proud… of you… for doing those things and telling someone and uh… mmmm testing the waters?” Kristoff says. Or asks. It’s unclear. He sighs, leaning over again.

“What did I do?” Elsa whispers to him, watching his face closely as he intensely considers fish below them. He squeaks. _That cannot be a good sign_.

“Heuh, well,” he starts, then coughs to lower his voice to its usual octave. “It sounds like, uh, you wanted to see how something felt and uh, don’t panic, it worked really well! And-and-and now..." Kristoff's eyes dart everywhere as he tries to come up with something more to say. 

\---

“Are you ready?”

Elsa glances toward Anna at her question. The ship holds steady just offshore from where the river—once dammed in the forest of mist—meets the sea. “I bathed if that’s what you mean.” The sisters stick their tongues out each other, but take hands. Anna swings their arms slightly. Elsa watches their hands as she says, “I am sorry, Anna. I see now that my letter must have been very distressing for you to come all this way.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Anna says, smiling at Elsa. “Say… hmm… thank you!”

“Thank you?”

“Yeah. Although maybe apologize to Gale, she seemed very upset. I spent quite a bit of time upside down.” They laugh together and hug at last. “Sorry I was so harsh.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am a little!” Anna insists.

“Tell Olaf I love him.”

“Will do,” Anna assures.

Kristoff cheers with an affectionate jab to Elsa’s shoulder, “Go get her!”

Elsa jumps off the edge of the ship, and Nokk leaps from the water to meet her. They gallop to the shore, Nokk shaking his head joyously. Just as they reach the river’s tail, an earth giant in all its rocky glory runs toward them, waving four arms. Galloping in among the forest's trees, the one and only salamander that spits fire leaps toward her, and Elsa reaches for an incredible catch.

“Whoa, calm down little guy!” she laughs, watching Bruni spit sparks. She offers him a quick flurry of snow, cooing at him apologetically. He quickly settles into the chill of Elsa’s hands, but he looks up at her with a look of betrayal. “I’m so sorry, little friend!”

Just then, Nokk rears in response to Gale’s blowing branches into their faces. Elsa ends up with several twigs in her hair. “Hello to you, too.” Nokk shakes himself, dirt, leaves, and even a branch falling out of his watery form and into the river. Clearly irritated, Gale lifts Elsa far above the water spirit, drops her. She screams, but Gale catches her just before hitting the ground. Then Gale lets her drop.

“Augh!” Elsa groans. Slowly standing back up, she glares around herself. “Was that necessary?” The wind chitters in response, Gale’s irritation apparent in the air’s tension. “Gale, I’m sorry!”

The wind knocks her over again. Nokk rears again and whinnies, getting mad in Elsa's defense.

“Don’t rile each other up! I am truly sorry, Gale! Gale, I’m sorry!” Elsa stands, frost on her hands. Gale whirls around her, but stops attacking. “I shouldn’t have brought you into my personal problem. I’m sorry for putting you between Anna and me like that. I won’t do it again.” The frost bubbling at each of Elsa’s limbs disappears, letting Gale act as she sees fit. Wind continues to swirl around her on the riverbank, but it settles finally, wrapping around her shoulders gently. To Nokk, Elsa reaches out a hand, saying, “Are you okay, friend?”

He nickers, but waits until Gale gently blows through his watery mane. Only then does he approach the river’s edge and nuzzles Elsa’s hand. Bruni jumps out from behind a rock, climbing up Elsa’s leg and onto her shoulder. And just above the trees around them, the earth giant Elsa saw earlier releases a gravelly roar, something that feels pleasant and kind to her ears.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa stands in the company of the forest’s spirits for a moment longer, hoping her heart communicates both her regret and her thankfulness for this little family she’s made. Before long, they’re all running through the forest, Elsa riding on the Nokk’s iced back, enjoying the fresh spring air.

Together, they reach the forest's Gate. But something’s not right. “Where is everybody?”

The goahtis are all gone from where the village was. Nokk trots on toward Elsa’s home as if all is well. Her goahti of ice still stands against the heat of spring. She dismounts, enters, and everything’s just as she left it a few weeks ago. As she comes back out into the sunshine, all four spirits watching her expectantly against the bright blue sky, Elsa remembers something.

+++

_“Isn’t it great!” Ryder exclaimed, falling back on his bed. “And we don’t have to move it every day to avoid angry spirits! When winter comes, Yelena says we’ll be able to stay in this area the whole season! And when it gets warm, she says we’ll follow the reindeer to a proper meadow north of here! It’s so great!”_

+++

Elsa gasps, turns northward. _They migrated! To meadows in the mountains north of here!_

_Shit._

The earth giant takes a step forward, taking a knee, and lays a hand down, the palm facing Elsa. She leans in to the comfort offered there, and great stone fingers ever so gently coil around her like a hug.

A loud, shaking, grounding sound brings her back to the present. As one hand lifts from around Elsa, the earth giant lifts the very ground under Elsa’s home, as well as the goahti of ice itself, with its other hand.

“Guess we’re going for a walk.”

**—Honeymaren—**

Budding tree leaves, so bright that their green bends yellow, dance in spring sunshine. Under their shade, Honeymaren sits, whittling away at the end of a block of birch wood, slowly carving out the face of a bear. With winter over, the reindeer have moved north and east around the edge of the once-misted forest, and the Northuldra followed them, finding a beautiful mountain meadow alongside their forest's trees, just out of their reach for decades. _Or as Arendelle would say_ , Honeymaren thinks bitterly, _we "herded" them_.

They’ve spotted bears all over the new landscape. No sight of the enormous white bear that met Ryder. As it happens, the enormous brown bears must not be much used to seeing humans, and usually keep their distance. Lots of new creatures have made their acquaintance with the tribe's people, both on these new open plains and even venturing into the forest they once were locked out of. Bugs of all kinds, foxes, lynx, moose. One day, the twins even saw a beaver (granted they had to ask Yelena to be sure). She’s really had her hands full explaining the new diversity of fauna to the children and even some adults, racking her mind for memories of the old ways, before she had to abandon them and lead her people into a new way of life: Survival.

Honeymaren pauses. She looks to her left and listens. To anyone else, it’s just the spring breeze, but…

_What is that sound?_

Honeymaren immediately climbs up the tree she’s leaning against, grabbing her staff on the way up. Despite the fact that the first ten feet are branchless, she’s quick. From high above, she listens carefully. Against the grasses growing in this part of the forest, she can hear something running. Sure enough, several creatures approach, stopping and wagging their tails at each other in the space where she had been sitting just moments prior. They look like the dogs Honeymaren saw in Arendelle, but taller, bulkier, wilder. The creatures rub against each other, yipping and licking and wrestling. She can’t help but smile down at the five of them.

Suddenly, one of them rears its head back and howls. Honeymaren flinches, feels the hairs across her skin stand on end at the sound, and more so very shortly as the others join in. It’s so delightful, Honeymaren nearly joins in. She pushes back from her stance—reaching across two branches to stay aloft—and the wood creaks. The canine creatures notice immediately.

At first, Honeymaren gasps in fear. They sense her, look up at her curiously. None of them bark like dogs would. But they do wag their tails.

Throwing caution to the wind, Honeymaren descends the tree trunk—slowly. The critters whine up at her, still curious. As she sets foot on the ground again, one of the canines approaches her, cautious but curious. Honeymaren can see now she’s female. She sniffs at Honeymaren, prances backwards and forwards. The others follow in their leader’s footsteps, sniffing at her, quirking their heads when she giggles.

“Aren’t you all adorable?” Honeymaren hums, letting the leader sniff her hand before tentatively rubbing the fur on her cheek. Accepting that she isn’t some kind of threat, the canines move on, running back into the forest. She thinks nothing of their departure at first, but as soon as they’re out of sight, Honeymaren feels the ground shake. _Earth giants?_

Only one, actually, at a distance. She watches over the treetops as one of the most non-humanoid giants she’s ever seen passes by in the distance. There’s a sudden wind, lifting Honeymaren off the ground. Once her feet are fully back on dirt, she brushes herself off, reaches for the staff she dropped.

“Hey.”

Honeymaren freezes. Slowly, she picks up her staff. With a deep breath, she hides all facial expression, rises and looks toward the other side of the clearing. Sure enough, there she is: Elsa. She’s as gorgeous as ever. Hair and dress pearl against shining pale skin. Ice blue eyes seek her own, and Honeymaren doesn’t flinch. Elsa does.

“Hey.”

Elsa’s hands fidget: clasping together, tugging at her dress, reaching for her hair. She seems tongue-tied. Honeymaren waits. Merciless.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while.”

“Me, specifically?”

“W-well, the whole tribe of course,” Elsa says, motioning vaguely in the direction that the earth giant just went. “But… yes.”

Honeymaren spots her dropped carving and knife. Without further ado, she drops, sitting against the tree again, picks them up, and returns to whittling. “Yes?”

“I… have been looking for you, specifically.”

With every second, Honeymaren hears Elsa take step after step closer. Soon, she sees her feet. Elsa kneels in front of her, but now Honeymaren refuses to look at her. Whatever she wants, Honeymaren’s determined to not give. Even if she kinda wants to.

“I owe you an apology.”

“Yeah,” Honeymaren says, still looking at her carving. “You do.” She can practically feel Elsa shudder. Honeymaren finally looks up. Those icy blue eyes don’t meet hers. That’s how she knows what she must do.

“Honeymaren…”

“Don’t.”

“I am sorry.”

Honeymaren stands, grimacing. “No.” Elsa stays on her knees, looking up at her so pleadingly, and Honeymaren already knows she’s weak at the sight. Fuck, she could just eat her up. But she presses on. “I misread you and touched you against your wishes. I am truly, deeply, unbearably sorry for that. It will never happen again.”

“No, Honeymaren.” Elsa reaches for her hand, and Honeymaren makes a fist, looks away. “That’s not, I didn’t mean—”

“Elsa, you literally ran away from me.” Her hushed words seethe out her teeth, her face grimacing and unable to look at her. Elsa flinches again. Her hand lets go of Honeymaren’s sleeve. Honeymaren takes a deep breath, finally looking down at her shoes. “That hurts, sure, but it’s nothing compared to… You ran away from your _people_. And then you disappeared. Again. You-you made _us_ a promise, Elsa.” Memories flash through Honeymaren’s mind, faces of loved ones who vanished in the mists, never to be found again. Poignant mourning fills her chest knowing that so many of her people never got to see the spirits reunited with the Northuldra, perhaps perishing by the spirits’ actions when they were _meant_ to be allies. How fitting to have the fifth spirit herself doing that same exact thing. And the worst of all the memories flashes too readily.

“For that, I am so sorry,” Elsa says. She’s standing now, moving too close.

The memory of being held by Elsa while she cried flashes in Honeymaren’s mind. She flinches, stepping back, away from Elsa, baring her teeth to try and keep the tears in. “You don’t get to say you’re sorry and just come back to us like everything’s fine! Okay? It’s one thing to not want me. That’s fine. You don’t have to and you could’ve just said something. You should have just told me. But it’s something completely different to just disappear! Just completely abandon us!” Now she can’t resist looking at Elsa. Of course, she’s practically sparkles in the sunlight. Of course she's magnificently beautiful, even as she hugs herself, eyes downcast, red lips pinched at the corners and chin trembling.

“Maren.” Her voice quavers, “I… I know now that what I did was wrong. I’ve never… No one’s ever… I haven’t…”

Honeymaren waits, a sinking feeling in her stomach, still angry. _Calling me_ _“Maren,” fuck’s sake…_

“That’s never happened to me before.”

“What’s never happened?”

Elsa’s eyes widen and look up to her. Although Honeymaren wants to be angry, to have this upset come to fruition, those blue eyes are so pleading, so frightened, that she doesn’t march off like she wants. Ever so slightly, Honeymaren nods. Elsa sees this, gulps. Only just louder than a whisper, she finally says, “I’d never been kissed before.”

If a brain can short-circuit, if the nerves between her ears and her brain and her mind can actually all stop for a second, they sure do now.

“Oh.” _Oh!_ Honeymaren’s body relaxes somewhat, dumbfounded. She’s still angry, but… _Oh… oh shit… oh no…_ she feels her face go through a dozen different emotions at least, muscles contorting but unable to speak. For the most part, Elsa maintains their sad eye contact. Honeymaren wants to stop her extremely communicative face but can’t, certain that this moment must be so difficult and downright painful for Elsa. “I didn’t… You should’ve… _I_ _wouldn’t’ve_ …” Taking a steadying breath, Honeymaren closes her eyes and tries one more time. “I wish I had known that. Thank you for trusting me with that information.”

To her credit, Elsa stays despite obvious embarrassment. “I still should not have run away from you. From… my people. And,” Elsa glances up at Honeymaren once more, “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

She nods, holding Elsa’s glance briefly. Up close, she can see how much Elsa is shaking, and a wave of tenderness cuts a sliver through her anger. Honeymaren sighs, groans, loudly. “Fine!” she growls. But she's heard from Anna how Elsa keeps her promises. Still, if Honeymaren's managed to put up with Jaska's bullshit for the last couple weeks since Elsa broke her heart, Honeymaren can surely manage another ex (that she didn't even really)…

Good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It Will Be Okay.
> 
> Kristoff is secretly as much of a romantic as Anna is, and you cannot convince me otherwise. (He wants to get this right! He just never knows that he always does!)


	17. Chapter 16—Labor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready  
> For an adventure!?
> 
> If you've made it this far, you've earned this and each chapter this week. Enjoy.
> 
> WARNING: Right out the gate, we've got suggestive situations bordering on explicit, and there's some angst mixed in, you've been warned about the italics specifically. Skipping it won't be an issue for reading the rest of the chapter.
> 
> Also, this chapter is longer than average, it'll balance out with the next chapter.

**—Chapter 16—Labor—**

**—Elsa—**

_Honeymaren’s laughter._

_Elsa’s in a garden. It’s like the gardens back at the castle in Arendelle, but different somehow. Perhaps the light? She calls out for her friend, but gets no response. Suddenly she’s in the castle, wearing her coronation dress and tiara. She feels silly in it, but knows she can't get it off if she tries. Still Honeymaren’s laughter taunts her, but something distresses her. A sense that Honeymaren’s not safe._

_“Honeymaren!” she shouts, marching through the empty halls, getting frustrated. If only she could find someone else to help her find Honeymaren. If only she could find Anna! “Where are you?!” she cries out. Then some invisible force tugs her up through the ceiling, making her nauseous._

_She’s outside in the stone courtyard, watching the gates close themselves. “No!” she gasps, fear growing. Now she doesn’t know where Honeymaren or anybody else_ is, _but she’s trapped here, too!_

_The wave of nausea hits again._

_Sinking underwater. Thick ice covers the surface, but Elsa ignores it. She can breathe fine. Honeymaren’s laugh rings out nearby and she turns. Elsa sees her! “Maren?!”_

_Another sudden shift: The surface of the water covered in ice is beside her, like an endless wall. She’s not sure what she’s walking on underwater, but something spins her around anyway._

_“Honeymaren!” She rushes forward, grabbing Honeymaren’s forearms. “Are you okay?”_

_“Elsa,” she says, smiling, “Of course I’m okay! Aren’t you?”_

_The thought that they’re underwater crosses Elsa's mind as an_ obvious sign _that they are not, in fact, okay. But then she glances down at Maren’s hands. And… her own bare arms… Although her hair’s still done up like her coronation day and the tiara is still affixed there, Elsa’s suddenly realizes that she’s naked. She gasps in horror, trying to cover herself up._

_Honeymaren smiles sweetly at her, gently pulls her arms and legs away from her nude body. “Don’t be frightened, Elsa.” When she steps closer, Elsa realizes her back is at the wall of ice. Despite the danger—there is_ _a danger, she just can’t remember what it is!—something deep in her gut takes an unexpected, visceral turn. A purple flame lights up Honeymaren’s eyes._

_Elsa likes it._

_“Don’t be frightened,” Honeymaren repeats, suddenly sultry. She rushes Elsa, trapping her against the ice, pulls her hair out of the up-do and out of the braid next, tossing the tiara. Elsa cries out, abruptly feeling a thick, firm thigh between her legs. Honeymaren looks at Elsa first, the flame in her eyes fixed as she presses all her weight against Elsa. The ice shifts again, becomes the floor against which Elsa’s pressed. Without warning Honeymaren starts grinding into her loins, fiery to the touch. At first Elsa freezes with fear, but Honeymaren encourages her. “It’s okay, you can tell me to stop.”_

_“No.” How she found her voice at all, Elsa can’t say. But out it comes again: “Don’t stop.” Obedient to her desire for once, Elsa grinds back into Honeymaren, seems to become possessed._

_“Elsa!”_

_Honeymaren’s clothes disappear, and Elsa throws her head back moaning. The woman on top of her doesn’t slow. But the fire…_

_Suddenly, Elsa’s flipped over onto her chest. But the heavenly friction doesn’t stop. She’s afraid she might catch fire herself, melt like the ice beneath her. It gets so good, though, pleasure building and building. Lips graze her ear.  
_

_“Don’t be frightened, Elsa.”_

_But the nausea hits again, and a force pulls Elsa through the ice to the biting cold air on the other side. Immediately she turns, looking for Honeymaren below. She’s crying, confused. Wailing not her own meets her ears. The danger—had it found them!?_

_Elsa’s back in the castle. In her winter bed robe, standing in the bathroom, staring at a mirror._

_Hans stares back at her. “Don’t be the monster…” he says, her mouth moving in unison with him._

***

Elsa leaps awake, gasping for air. Her eyes dart around her goahti, looking for any signs of danger. In moments, she sinks back to her bed, cradling her face with both hands. She would shout “what the fuck” if she wasn’t so fucking heartbroken that the nightmare now has a _new fucking part_ that she seriously wants back.

Flopping back down on her bed, Elsa groans. Without ceasing, she grabs a pillow and slams it against her face, screaming into it. Frustration of an severe kind has been her companion for too long as of late.

**—Honeymaren—**

Yelena leads a group of young adults into the plains of the tundra, springing to new life the likes of which had not been experienced by their tribe for decades. Even some of the elders participate in each day’s lessons, eager to reinvigorate their tribal family’s culture and lifestyle together. Honeymaren follows close to Yelena, upon her request. Ryder walks along on her other side, joyfully gasping at each new flower, bug, or bird he sees.

“I had no idea finding the sky would mean finding so much more!” he sighs, gently returning a beetle to the ground.

“Just don’t bring home ticks,” she jeers. Honeymaren chuckles when he elbows her.

“I don’t have ticks.”

“You _won’t_ have ticks if I have any part in it.”

“Hush, you two,” Yelena warns over her shoulder. “I’m following my nose, and it’s not as strong as it used to be. I have to concentrate.”

Large white clouds pass through the brilliant blue sky above; in the distance behind their group, Honeymaren can see dark specks—the reindeer herd. But the brilliant pale woman at the back of the group speaking with an elder catches her eye. The beauty of the scene churns her stomach. She turns back forward, frowning slightly.

“You two talking again yet?” Ryder asks.

Honeymaren doesn’t answer.

He continues. “She’s been really interested in my _noaidi_ lessons. It’s actually been really helpful. Telling her the stuff helps me remember what I’m being taught.”

“Mhmm.”

“And she keeps making me dinner as a thanks! Actually, she beat me at tablut last night, first time since we taught her. I think Elsa’s ready for headier competition.”

“Are you my brother or her wingman?” Honeymaren asks, voice low and dangerous, using her staff to point out an ankle-twisting hole in the ground just ahead of her brother’s next step.

Ryder smiles not-so-innocently, runs his hand through his hair, and steps around the hole. “What? No! What are you talking about?”

“Pick one.”

“You two,” Yelena says, “quiet.” Their leader stops, takes a deep breath in. “I think we’ve found some.” Smiling, Yelena jogs a little further ahead, inspecting the tall grasses carefully. Suddenly, she dives in, yanking out an impressively long specimen. “AHA!” Honeymaren’s never seen Yelena smile so widely as she turns. Pointing at the grass’s roots, she beams. “Red! Red roots! It’s sweet grass!”

Everyone gathers, muttering excitedly amongst themselves. Each one of them approaches and listens to Yelena’s instructions: “Pleasant scent isn’t enough, you must find red roots for the preferred grass. We’ll harvest as much as we can today and start preparing sweetgrass braids tomorrow.”

Over the next several hours, the whole party breaks their respective backs seeking out the finely scented grass with red roots. Before long, Honeymaren sweats through her summer shirt. At first, she tries to ignore it, but the hotter she gets the more it chafes. Her arms and shoulders start to feel raw. Ryder clears his throat _at_ her.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.”

Ryder chuckles. “I told you, you needed new shirts _months_ ago.”

He’s right. She should have made more by now. Her arms itch and she’s just about to lose her mind from the chaffing. Honeymaren glares at Ryder. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Ryder giggles and shrugs. “You could take the shirt off? No one will care.”

The thought had crossed her mind. But Elsa’s nearby, laughing and smiling and helping the others as Gale cools them all off. “No.”

“Ryder?” It’s Elsa’s voice. Honeymaren pretends to look away but watches her from her peripheral vision. Ryder stands upright as Elsa approaches. She points over her shoulder. “I think there are… others? Over there?”

“Others?” Ryder looks where Elsa points, and Honeymaren stops pretending not to notice. She stands as well and looks out in the distance. Seeing two or three figures several hundred meters away—the opposite direction from their forest—she lifts her hand up to block the sunlight.

“Yelena?”

At her name, Yelena looks up at Honeymaren, then in the direction she’s pointing. She squints, then balks. “I don’t believe it!” Yelena starts running toward the figures as fast as she can. Before Honeymaren can move, Elsa’s at Yelena’s side, ice preceding them with Gale at their backs so Yelena can comfortably slide across the landscape. Honeymaren starts running in their direction, already irritated.

By the time she catches up to Yelena and Elsa (with the rest of the excursionists behind her), she recognizes the strangers as being Northuldra…ish. And one of them is hugging Yelena so tightly, her feet are off the ground. “What did I miss?”

Elsa turns back with a shy smile while Yelena continues her conversation with the two men. “I think they’re another tribe of Northuldra.”

Honeymaren swallows thickly between heavy breaths, glaring at Elsa and looking toward Yelena for explanation. After she catches Elsa glancing at her chest. Just then, her mentor turns back, tears budding at the corners of her eyes. “Honeymaren, come here. These men are from a seaside tribe of Northuldra that our tribe… we used to be sister villages? Sister tribes? You understand.”

“I want to!” Honeymaren says with a smile, nodding at the men.

One of them, a shorter man with silver hair places his hand on his opposite shoulder, then lightly places it on Honeymaren’s shoulder. “It’s a blessing to meet you.”

Repeating the gesture, Honeymaren nods and smiles. “And you. I’m Honeymaren.”

The younger, taller of the two men—she’s guessing he’s the elder’s son—introduces himself as well, but Honeymaren realizes as he does that they must speak a different dialect of some kind, because she can’t quite catch his name. At this point, many of the sweet grass gatherers have caught up, excitedly listening or introducing themselves to the strangers. Ryder grins awkwardly at young man, stumbling through the whole process. But Honeymaren steps as close to Yelena as possible, desperate to understand what’s going on and what she’s supposed to be doing.

As if reading her mind, Yelena turns to her. “We had many groups of Northuldra spanning the vast land north and east of our forest before the fall. Many of the tribes sent representatives for the celebration we held welcoming the Arendellians, and that’s when our forest fell. These men are from a sea-side village that still exists on the north coast. They’ve come to check on this forest border every year for decades now.” She smiles gently at the men, who turn shy. More quietly to Honeymaren, she whispers, “We’re not as alone as we thought. They never gave up on us!”

All of a sudden, the ground shakes. Elsa quickly turns back behind them. The look of awe in the men’s eyes cue Honeymaren to turn around. One of the smaller, younger earth giants approaches, shaking the ground.

Through his thick accent, the younger man says, “I have never seen…”

“Son,” the elder man says, “It’s true! Spirits are back!”

Yelena looks away from the giant to their new acquaintances. “Back?”

The father and son share a confused look. “The spirits have been missing from our lands since the mist fell on your forest. We thought they had abandoned us!”

“Yelena!” Elsa calls. She presses through the Northuldra toward the earth spirit, but looks back toward her leader.

“Elsa?”

The stone figure bends down, motioning with its many limbs while pressing its— _forehead? head? central appendage?—_ to Elsa’s forehead. (It looks a little like the beetle Ryder had admired earlier.) She turns to face Honeymaren first.

Dutiful first and foremost, she asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Back home,” Elsa says, “Gides is going into labor.”

Honeymaren spins to Yelena, feeling herself pale. “It’s too soon!”

Yelena gasps sharply, but acts quickly. “Elsa, Honeymaren, we’re headed back. Ryder!”

“Me?”

“You’re in charge. Talk to these men and arrange a future meeting, then bring everyone back.”

“I’m in charge?” Ryder asks incredulously.

“He’s in charge?” Honeymaren asks.

“Me, in charge?”

Under her breath, Yelena turns to Honeymaren, “Being the leader means delegating. Now let’s go.”

“Come on,” Elsa calls. Swallowing a groan, Honeymaren takes off her shoulder bag full of sweetgrass and runs toward her and the earth giant. Quickly as they can, she and Yelena climb onto the spirit’s back while it picks Elsa up in a hand. Before she’s even got a solid grip—“Aaah!”—they’re running.

**—Elsa—**

The sun might still be hanging in the sky, but Elsa knows it’s late. Just as they’re about to reach the Northuldra’s summer grounds, she jumps from the earth giant. As she crosses through the air above the creek, the Nokk rises to meet her and they race forward.

Together, they run atop the creek itself as it cuts through the reindeer herd, launches into the trees at the eastern edge of the forest. The summer _lavvus_ rise up around Elsa among the trees. She dismounts swiftly and the Nokk returns to the waters. One of the elders simply points her forward without a word, and Elsa ducks into the lavvu. Sure enough, Gides and her husband, Heaibmu, are holding hands as she groans through a wave of pain.

“Elsa?”

“I’m here to help,” she says reassuringly. “Yelena and Honeymaren are on their way.”

“Thank goodness,” Gides sighs, breathing heavily. “And the midwife?”

Elsa nods. “I’m sure they’ll be bringing her as well. Now let’s get you comfortable.”

“How did you know to come?” Heaibmu asks.

“Contractions only just started,” Gides groans.

To that, Elsa grins. “A little spirit told me.” They chuckle. Heaibmu and Elsa each take a side of Gides, easing her into bed. While the husband takes his wife’s hand, Elsa goes to the large pot of water she’s used to seeing in everyone’s homes. She grabs the closest kuksa and scoops some water out. With a wave of her hand, she ices the water, crushes it into pieces. Coming back to Gides’s side, she offers her the ice.

She gasps with delight. “Thank you!”

Just then, Yelena and Honeymaren duck into the summer dwelling. “Gides!” Yelena rushes to the bed, and Elsa’s heart catches as Honeymaren bursts in with another large pot of water. Her shirt practically bursts at the seams as she lifts the heavy pot with ease.

Elsa gulps. Turns around, walking back to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Yelena asks.

“I’m terrified!” Heaibmu cries.

“She was asking me!” Gides yells.

Yelena peers at the kuksa in her hands. “Where’d you get ice?”

Gides just chuckles and points to Elsa, sitting dutifully beside the head of the bed. Then she gasps in pain. “Oh! What do I do? I—I don’t know what to do! It’s too early, the baby—!”

Elsa lays a hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. So will the baby.”

“Yes,” Yelena agrees. “How far apart are contractions?”

“Uhh…” Heaibmu turns to his wife.

Gides groans. “Well contraction number two is starting!” She cries out in pain. Elsa reaches out, gently icing her hands. Those hands land at Gides temples, just close enough to cool without touching her. When she finally relaxes, Elsa looks up to find Maren opposite her (while the mother-to-be crushes her hand in her grip). She’s staring at Elsa intensely.

She isn’t the only one who notices. “Honeymaren, Elsa, a word,” Yelena says, standing. “Now.” Obediently, Elsa rises and follows Honeymaren outside. Just as they exit, the midwife—Girste, from when Honeymaren was ill—arrives and enters the lavvu, eyes wide as her gaze darts between Honeymaren and Elsa.

Yelena places a hand on Elsa’s shoulder and another on Honeymaren’s. “All right, you two. I know things have been tense for the last few weeks—”

“Wait, Yel—”

“Honeymaren.”

Elsa glances over at Honeymaren’s reddening face. She glowers at Yelena, but silences. Nonetheless, Yelena waits. Once Honeymaren looks back up at her with calm neutrality, she continues. “We’re going to take shifts assisting. If Gides and Heaibmu had had a child before, I’d handle it with Girste and Gides’ mother, but new parents need more hands on deck, and…”

“The baby’s premature,” Honeymaren finishes for her.

Nodding grimly, Yelena sighs. “Honeymaren, you and me are first shift. Elsa, you and me are second. Then you two are third.” Elsa sees the other two women seem to shrink in fear. So instead, she folds her hands in front of her and stands tall, lifting her chin. Like a queen. “Let’s get to work.”

All three women return to the lavvu as the sun sets behind them.

**—Honeymaren—**

Apparently, baby shifts are long and emotionally difficult. Honeymaren does anything the midwife, Girste, or Yelena tell her, but Gides and her husband keep talking and crying about… well… the baby. She does her best to stay positive, retrieve water, hold hands through contractions, and maintain the mother’s privacy. Finally, Yelena lays a hand on her shoulder. If anyone looks more tired than the parents, it’s her.

“Get some sleep, kid. I’ll wake up Elsa.”

Honeymaren turns to look at the entrance. Elsa’s curled up by it, somehow taking up next to no room despite being the tallest person there. Sometime over the night, a certain fire spirit had found them and set up his own little nap time on her shoulder. For a moment, she hates how adorable they are. But she’s tired.

“Okay. You’ll tell her we do things differently here?”

“Not that it’s really your concern,” Yelena irritably reminds her, “But yes, Elsa will learn that rest is for bed and here, women push while standing because gravity. Or were you going to explain that to me, and Girste, and Gides, too?”

She silently accepts the chastisement and sits down, lays down on the pelts on the floor. Immediately falls asleep…

\---

For the first time in months, Honeymaren sleeps so deeply, she doesn’t dream at all. But a song starts to pull her out of her slumber, an ethereal sound she can’t place. At once familiar and yet otherworldly, the sound turns more and more voice-like…

She blinks her eyes open slowly. Daylight and firelight slowly filter in. Just beyond the fire, figures stand together. Laughter…

Honeymaren rubs her eyes, leans up on her elbow. Across from her, she sees Gides in her bed with Heaibmu next to her, laughing and crying at once. They look so tired. He’s holding something. Around them, Yelena and Girste and— _Elsa!_

As Gides rests in her husband’s arms, Elsa takes the baby from Heaibmu. That’s when Honeymaren realizes she’s been singing to the baby the whole time.

_“… you don’t have to hide. Show yourself, I’m dying to meet you. Show yourself, it’s your turn. Are you the one I’ve been looking for all of my life?”_

Elsa turns, practically glowing in delight while holding what looks like an enormously healthy infant. She sees Honeymaren waking up. Instead of flinching away, Elsa walks round the hearth to Honeymaren’s side, kneels beside her. The sight feels as otherworldly as the sound, and Honeymaren's lost in the magic. “Would you like to meet Varva? She’s beautiful!”

Every ounce of ill will melts away. Honeymaren smiles gently, sitting up. “I would.” Carefully, Elsa places her own crossed arms atop of Honeymaren’s crossed arms, layering them and then retreating so that little Varva nestles perfectly into Honeymaren’s grasp. “Look at you!” Honeymaren whines. More quietly, she adds, “Aww, look how sleepy she is!”

“That makes two of us,” Gides groans.

“Three of us,” Heaibmu adds.

Honeymaren and Elsa chuckle together. “A perfect family then.”

\---

Yelena leads Honeymaren and Elsa out of the lavvu, making room for the (new) grandparents and other family members to swarm the new parents and take over care after some instruction from Girste. Holding a hand above her eyes, Honeymaren asks no one in particular, “Is that sunrise or sun set?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Yelena groans.

Honeymaren nudges her mentor affectionately. “Let’s all go home.”

Elsa looks just as dazed as Yelena does. “Which way is home?”

With a chuckle, Honeymaren takes each of their hands. “Come on, you two. Bedtime.” She pulls them forward, stopping first at Yelena’s nearby lavvu. “Sleep tight,” she calls as she pushes Yelena toward her home.

“You too, _mom_ ,” Yelena scoffs.

Looking around, Honeymaren realizes two things: Firstly, the group that harvested sweet grass yesterday appears to all be back, and secondly, she’s not actually certain where Elsa’s little ice hut is. They haven’t exactly been chummy since she caught up to the rest of the tribe. Right now, however, things feel different between them. Honeymaren feels different. She turns to Elsa. “Uhh… where is your…?”

“I think north?”

“Works for me.” She turns northward into the forest, nudges Elsa with her elbow to get her moving. “How was childbirth? I can’t believe I slept through it.”

Elsa’s not paying attention. Honeymaren assumes she’s all but asleep standing. But in fact, as they cross into a small clearing near the creek where the ice goahti has been relocated, Elsa pulls back. Turning to face her, Honeymaren braces herself, fists her hands in the shirt at her stomach—it still chaffs.

As far as she can tell, Elsa’s bracing, too, wrapping one arm around herself protectively, the wind in her hair. She looks breathtaking. There’s no point in denying it. With a sigh, Honeymaren approaches her. Slowly, she places a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. Not too intimate, just friendly. “Hey.”

Elsa gives her the slightest smile. “Maren, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Honeymaren smiles encouragingly. “And I admit, I’m stubborn when it comes to a grudge.”

“That’s okay,” Elsa says. “You wouldn’t have to be if I was braver. I’m working on it.”

A weight lifts off of Honeymaren, and she can’t help but smile. “I will, too. I’m glad that we can be friends again. Let’s get you home, huh?”

But Elsa takes Honeymaren’s hand in both her own. Honeymaren stares, perplexed. Elsa steps closer, tracing her fingers across Honeymaren’s palm—just barely cool to the touch, yet lighting a fire within her—with such a look of longing. She lifts Honeymaren’s hand up to her own cheek. In turn, Honeymaren shakes her head, brow furrowed, confused. Why is Elsa leaning into her touch, nuzzling against her palm? Corner of her red lips, just braving a touch to her wrist? Stepping even closer?! How is this happening? What…?

A tiny, airy, terrified giggle escapes Elsa’s lips. “I ran away because I _liked_ it, Maren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think ice magic makes for a good healer.
> 
> Re Italicized section: Elsa has recurring nightmares that end with Hans as her in the mirror. After returning from Athohallen, an addition to the nightmare was some sexytimes with Honeymaren, making for some serious frustrations.
> 
> Also full disclosure: I got the timing of the seasons wrong in this chapter; sweet grass would have been sought out later on, after other seasonal events we'll get to in about a week. Whoops--but the red roots thing is in fact a thing!


	18. Chapter 17—Victorious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think little victories don't matter, you can get out. Find glory in the little things.  
> (Highly recommend "Victory," by Janelle Monae from her album Electric Lady, just in general and also here and in this historical moment that is 2020.)
> 
> No warnings.

**—Chapter 17—Victorious—**

**—Honeymaren—**

Internal screaming.

Honeymaren stares speechless, mouth agape, yet holding her breath. Only her thumb moves, light upon Elsa’s cheekbone. But it’s getting awkward. Elsa squeezes her wrist, looks at her expectantly. “Honeymaren?” She gulps, shakes herself a little.

“You… you liked what? Wha-what ‘it’?”

Shuddering a little, her face downright _yearning_ , Elsa whispers, “The kiss.” Honeymaren tries to process this information, but she feels about as shocked as when she saw Olaf for the first time. Apparently, she looks like it, too. “Maren?” Elsa asks. She looks a little frightened. “Are you okay?”

Slowly, Honeymaren shakes her head no.

Elsa cringes. “Is… _this_ okay?” Her eyes dart to Honeymaren’s hand, the hand _she_ holds to her own cheek, the hand she took hold of and placed upon herself. Honeymaren’s hand. Because she _liked!_ _The! Kiss!_

Honeymaren nods quickly—at least when her mind registers the second question. “Sorry, I’m just… I don’t understand. I want to understand.”

“Well,” Elsa says, licks her lips, motions toward her goahti of ice behind her. “Would you like to come in?” Honeymaren can see that Elsa’s chest, her shoulders, her face are all blooming red. It’s both mesmerizing and frightening. Especially because…

“I, uh, shouldn’t you get some sleep?” Honeymaren asks, scratching absently at her neckline. Ryder had been right—her tunics are all too small. She was bigger and stronger than ever! And after working in the sun harvesting sweet grass, clinging to a rock creature for miles, sweating through the intensity of Yelena and the midwife trying to help a first-time mother with a premature baby, her skin feels desperate.

Then again, she’s desperate in more ways than one right now.

Because Elsa smiles gently, brushing her hair back behind an ear. Her neck is right there, within reach. “Actually, I don’t feel very tired right now. I never helped with a birth before!”

“Is that so?” Honeymaren asks. She sweats anew and lets Elsa lead the way. Entering, she gasps at the light in the goahti of ice. “Wow, sunsets look good in here.” Elsa glances back at her, smiling in appreciation of the compliment. As Honeymaren removes her shoes, Elsa starts a kettle. “You’re not making coffee this time of night, are you?”

“Tea,” Elsa says. “Anna gave me some as a birthday gift.”

Honeymaren stands, turns back toward Elsa, notices she’s preparing two cups made of porcelain, like she’d seen in Arendelle. “You don’t have a kuksa?”

“No,” she says, “I’m afraid I don’t know where those come from.”

Sniffing at the cup, Honeymaren says, “We just make them. Usually they’re gifts or you make one yourself.” Watching Elsa sip on her tea, it occurs to her that this gives Elsa something to do with her hands. _Smart._ “Would you like one? A kuksa?”

Elsa sits in a chair. “One day, perhaps.”

_Also smart._ Honeymaren reins herself in, sits on the pelts near the firepit, giving her distance. She takes a deep breath. The cups of tea are nice, but she sees through them. Something to keep them both busy and guarded. ‘Polite,’ as Honeymaren imagines an Arendellian might think. It’s that separation that drives her to anger so often with Elsa; it drives her mad with desire, too. Even if she’s Northuldra herself, Elsa has a lot to learn. _Maybe that’s why I can’t get enough of Elsa,_ she ponders. Because there was never enough.

Mustering all of her formality, Elsa says, “You said you wanted to understand?”

In return, Honeymaren nods, formally. “I do.”

**—Elsa—**

Although she takes a long sip of tea, Maren watches her intently. Just as Anna helped her face her demons, Maren has helped Elsa face her desires. For weeks now, she’s craved Honeymaren’s attention, craved those brown eyes. Now face to face with the one she desires—and finally admitting to herself what and who she desires—Elsa has no idea what to say or do.

“I’m… learning,” she says, blushing again. Elsa looks down at herself turning red, which only makes it worse, but that forces her to see herself in her mind’s eye: cooped up in a chair, guarding herself with tea. She sighs, puts down the cup, stands. _How to do this…_ Her heartbeat thunders, and somehow, she knows she must resist its warnings to run.

Elsa looks Maren in the eye. Shivers at the electricity of her gaze but holds steady. Without looking away, she walks toward Maren. It’s no more than five steps, yet it feels like a thousand miles. Little victories.

Frankly, Maren looks surprised when Elsa sits down beside her. And excited. _Oh!_ Elsa feels that fluttering sensation again in her chest and stomach. _I… I like that!_

“Elsa—”

“You have no idea how hard that was.”

Honeymaren does a double take. “What… what was hard?”

Elsa bites her lip, looks away to take a breath. “Walking over here to you.”

Maren scratches at the neck of her tunic, but her brow turns upward, like she’s desperate to help. “How come?”

“Because _you_ are something I want.”

“Uh,” Maren rubs the back of her neck, quietly continuing, “That still doesn’t make sense.”

Closing her eyes, grazing her fingertips across each other, Elsa finally says it. As quickly as possible. “When I was little, before I hurt Anna, I loved my magic. We had so much fun. I was fun. I wanted my magic.” Tears are welling up, she can tell, so she keeps her eyes shut. “I enjoyed my powers. And then everything… changed. _Wanting_ became a very bad, dangerous thing.” Tear after silent tear comes out. One by one, Maren thumbs them away.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Honeymaren assures her.

“No, it’s not!” Elsa whimpers.

Maren presses her forehead against Elsa’s temple. “Let me finish.” To that, Elsa opens her eyes. Maren smiles gently. “It’s okay—I’m here. You're not alone, okay? And… you don't have to be alone when things aren't okay. Not if you don't want to be.”

“Mmm.” Elsa smiles soft, shuddering.

“What do you want right now, Elsa?”

For a moment, Elsa looks into Maren’s eyes, daring herself as her eyes water. She whispers, “I want you to kiss me.”

“Okay, but first I _really_ need to get out of this shirt.”

**—Honeymaren—**

Suddenly, Elsa’s skin feels very cold. Honeymaren reacts quickly. “Nonononono not like that!” _Okay, a_ touch _warmer_. “I’ve been wearing this shirt for two days I think and it’s…”

“…not clean?”

“Too small. But that, also.”

Elsa looks at her oddly: The confusion on her face is adorable. Ice blue eyes dart to her chest and back again, her face reddening. “I’m sorry, I’m confused now. Why are you wearing a shirt that’s too small? And why does it need to be, uhm, not on you?”

“Because none of my shirts fit anymore,” Honeymaren says, grinning guiltily. She thumbs the pack of antler needles that hangs from her belt with other tools. “And I hate sewing.” Elsa’s eyes dart to Honeymaren’s chest _again_ , and now _she_ can feel herself blush. “Do you have anything else I could wear?”

That gets her a smile, and Elsa holds a hand aloft, frost dancing at her fingertips. “I could help with that.”

“Will that work if the uh, ‘base’ shirt doesn’t fit?”

By the looks of Elsa’s tightened lips, she’s stumped. “Actually, I don’t know.”

“Let me just—” Honeymaren looks around, grabs a pelt—brown on one side and white at the other with brown spots. Before Elsa can stop her, she rushes to the other side of the room with it. With her back still facing Elsa, she undoes her belt and pulls the shirt off. She sighs in relief, lifting the pelt in front of her torso, but Honeymaren hears a gasp behind her, much closer than expected. A hand gently brushes over her shoulders and it stings. “Ah!”

“Maren! Your skin!”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about—” The hand at her back chills. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Elsa wide-eyed, both hands frosted and floating just above her skin, moving up and down her back. Elsa doesn’t touch her directly, except to push her braid out of her way. It’s a huge relief to her skin, but Honeymaren’s gut churns, wants the sensation of Elsa’s skin against hers. “You can touch me, if you want,” she blurts out. Too loudly.

Elsa pauses her nurturing. “Is… is your… front hurt?”

“Um!” Honeymaren assesses herself quickly. “Not too bad.” A beat passes, then Elsa’s cold hand takes hold of her shoulder and turns her around. Honeymaren squeaks, pulling the pelt closer and higher. Ever so slightly taller, Elsa looks down at her with eyes full of concern. And thensome. It seems to have pushed away her timidity. But she’s also staring an awful lot. Honeymaren clears her throat.

“I can help.” Swallowing thickly, Elsa reaches out to each of Honeymaren’s shoulders and across her collar. Almost immediately, the pain eases. She can’t help but sigh with relief.

“That’s a lot better, thank you.”

“Let me finish.”

Honeymaren quirks one brow at Elsa. With another flick of the wrist, a strange flurry of snow springs toward her; something starts to form around Honeymaren. The pelt she holds is moved round to her shoulder and back. She gasps but the snow falls thickly enough that Honeymaren isn’t exposed—and Elsa’s eyes are closed.

When the magic settles, Honeymaren stares down at herself, throwing her hands up to her head in disbelief. “Elsa!” This tunic is shorter than her usual, but it fits her perfectly, blindingly white cloth with the reindeer pelt transformed into a kind of shawl cape thing. It looks majestic. Very Elsa, somehow. Honeymaren feels majestic, too. “Elsa look at it!”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

Elsa just smiles, hugs herself again.

_Make a move!_ Honeymaren smiles back and lifts her hand toward Elsa’s face. Just when the backs of her curled fingers nearly touch her, Honeymaren asks, “May I?” Given that Elsa doesn’t respond immediately, Honeymaren steps closer, as close as she can stand in front of Elsa without actually touching her. “Elsa,” she says, smirking, “What do you want?”

For a moment, Elsa doesn’t say or do anything. Honeymaren prepares to step back dutifully, offering a kind smile. Then Elsa leans her cheek against her hand, and she mimics the touch against Honeymaren’s face. “Please.” With a deep breath, she places her other hand on Elsa’s waist. She leans forward, but waits. Elsa crosses the little distance between their lips.

_Wow!_ Honeymaren smiles into tentative kisses, letting Elsa’s lips guide her tempo. She breathes in Elsa’s scent, sighs happily through her nose when Elsa loosely wraps her arms over her shoulders. Lightly chilled hands tremble their way into Honeymaren’s hair and she gasps slightly. Elsa stops kissing her at the sound, seeking Honeymaren’s eyes. Catching her look, Honeymaren smirks once more and starts peppering Elsa’s face with quick little pecks. When she giggles, Honeymaren hums happily, nuzzles her face into the crook of Elsa’s neck, continues to breathe her in. Elsa keeps herself pressed gently against her, still stroking her dark hair.

“How was that?” she asks Elsa. Her pulse rings in her ears.

The lightest chuckle meets her ears. “I liked it.”

Pressing another soft kiss into Elsa’s neck below her ear, Honeymaren hums again. “Mmmm, good.” For a moment, it feels like they exist in a moment frozen in time, perfectly at peace, loosely holding each other. “What would you like next?”

Elsa nuzzles closer to her. “I think I’d like to get some sleep. Will you stay?”

“Yes.”

Without further ado, Elsa leads her back onto the bed, sits on its edge. Honeymaren falls down beside her, pulls her close, nuzzles against her shoulder. It only takes a few minutes for Elsa to fall asleep. When she does, Honeymaren repositions them both under the blankets. She takes her strange new tunic off, looks it over, then folds it and sets it aside. Of course, she can’t sleep—she’d just been sleeping. Now adrenaline has her wide awake, stronger than any coffee. Instead, she marvels at Elsa beside her in the light of the moon and stars, filtering through the ice around them.

\---

When Honeymaren wakes, she doesn’t remember falling asleep. Her eyes open to Elsa, propped up on her elbow, watching her sleepily. She feels Elsa’s hand gently carding through her hair, now unbraided. Honeymaren sighs, closes her eyes for a minute more. Thus, she hears Elsa’s smirk before she sees it.

“You took your shirt off.”

Her brown eyes shoot open at that. Elsa’s smirk is _so enchanting_.

“I didn’t want to wrinkle it,” Honeymaren squeaks, pulling the blanket up further.

“Mhmm.”

“Did I stay over all night?”

Elsa looks up to the dull light filtering in around them. “Still early, I think.”

She chuckles under her breath anyway. “Ryder will notice. We have reindeer duties today. I think it’s today.” Although Elsa doesn’t respond, she seems calm. Honeymaren pulls an arm out from under the covers and asks, “May I?”

Elsa nods, leans in and presses a kiss to Honeymaren’s palm as she reaches up to caress her cheek.

“Do you want this?”

Again, Elsa nods.

“Say so for me?” Honeymaren asks.

“Okay,” she says, takes a deep, shaky breath. “Yes, I—I like this. I want this.”

“Come here.”

“Hm?”

“I want to kiss you,” Honeymaren says, lifts an eyebrow, “but I’m guessing you’re not ready for me to flash you.” The resultant blush across Elsa’s face and collar makes Honeymaren feel proud of herself, both for being right and for eliciting that response. One day, she’ll want to see Honeymaren’s chest, for sure.

But Elsa grins a little. “Should have thought about that before taking your shirt off.” Nonetheless, she leans closer to Honeymaren, who giggles and kisses her cheek. Now that it's okay to admit her feelings, Honeymaren's certain she could be satisfied by the simplest gestures of affection. A kiss on Elsa's cheek feels like climbing a mountain.

“I should get going.”

Nodding, Elsa stands up. Only then does Honeymaren realize that Elsa is wearing the dark green undershirt to her own tunic. She crosses the room, watching a wall, waiting for Honeymaren to change.

“Would you like to keep that?” she asks, reaching for the folded, mysterious fabric of Elsa’s creation. Putting it on, Honeymaren adds, “The shirt, I mean.”

Elsa stiffens. “Oh, um…!”

“It doesn’t fit me after all,” Honeymaren says, walking up behind her and placing a hand on Elsa’s shoulder. “You might want to wash it though.” Elsa turns to look at her, smiles at the sight of Honeymaren, shyly tucks her blonde hair behind her ear.

“Okay, if that’s all right.”

“Do you want to keep wearing it?”

She tucks her face down towards the collar of the shirt. Honeymaren suspects Elsa’s smelling it. “Yes,” Elsa says quietly, shining blue eyes looking up at her sweetly, shyly.

“Then keep it.” Honeymaren does grab her too small gákti though, thinking that she might be able to reuse the leather. Elsa follows her toward the door, gently grasps her shoulder and drags her hand down Honeymaren’s arm to hold her hand.

“I’ll see you later?”

Honeymaren smiles, nods. “Yeah. Come see me later. I might not be wearing all this though—it’s a little warm.” Tentative, Elsa holds Honeymaren’s hand for a moment more. She seems… to be expecting something. “Would you… Do you want me… um, may I kiss you?”

Elsa nods quickly, then remembers Honeymaren’s earlier instruction. “Yes, I’d like that.” Smiling, Honeymaren squeezes Elsa’s hand a little and leans forward, offering Elsa's lips a little attention before departing for her and Ryder’s lavvu. Once she’s halfway between the forest’s edge and the majority of lavvus out on the plain, Honeymaren can’t resist jumping up and down, fists pumping in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you; don't forget to love yourselves no matter what anybody ever says about your journey.  
> You deserve happiness. This chapter is dedicated to moments of happiness in the midst of deep fucking shit.


	19. Chapter 18—Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, y'all. I needed a couple mental health days.  
> \---  
> No warnings. This chapter was tough to edit, moreso than most chapters, and it might seem like filler right now but I promise it's important. Positive vibes!

**—Chapter 18—Wild—**

**—Elsa—  
**

“Why—are—you— _being_ —like—this?!” Elsa chides the Nokk. He protests as Elsa directs him up the hill, out of the forest and onto the plains toward the reindeer. She eventually jumps off, and the Nokk shakes himself. Moving to nuzzle her, Elsa begrudgingly allows him close. “I’m don’t want to fight with you,” she says. Nodding to her, the Nokk canters away, back to the forest. _That was really weird_ , she thinks, watching him go. _He’s never minded leaving the forest before_.

The area is more mountainous, rockier. As she crests the foothill, Elsa scans the reindeer. Like Maren said, she’s there riding a reindeer, and she’s not wearing the tunic Elsa made for her. She doesn’t mind. The closer she gets, she realizes Maren’s at least wearing one of Ryder’s tunics. It’s shorter, but Elsa’s not complaining. Pants are nice… Legs are nice… Maren’s legs are particularly nice.

Maren turns just then and sees Elsa walking towards her. Smiling, she turns her reindeer in Elsa’s direction and trots her way. Watching the sea of deer part for her path, Elsa can’t help but wonder whether she has her mother to thank for her and Anna’s shared appreciation for a rider of reindeer. _I don’t even know that much about reindeer,_ she realizes.

“Hey!” Honeymaren says. She lifts her hand from her thigh, reaching towards Elsa. But she pauses, just barely lifting an eyebrow. Her palm hangs just to the side of Elsa’s face. “I’m glad you came.”

A nervous jolt—Elsa bites her lip. But that makes Maren’s smile bigger, and Elsa likes that smile. Still, she asks, “Does Ryder know?”

“I think Ryder knew before either of us,” Maren admits, rolling her eyes through a grimace. “He won’t make a big deal about it. Not in front of you or anybody.” _But he’ll tease Maren,_ Elsa picks up. Maren reads her face quickly, chuckles. “I’m fair dibs. He liked the shirt you made.” Elsa smiles, leans her cheek into Maren’s patient hand. Her mind races furiously, fear filling her heart, fretting about someone seeing.

“Do you want this?” Maren’s hand moves, brushing Elsa’s hair back.

Elsa gulps down her fear, forcing herself to relax with a deep breath, feels her own chill leave the air. “Yes,” Elsa says, leaning closer into her hand and closer into desire. “I do.” She opens her eyes as Maren’s hand leaves.

Maren leans forward, laying down on top of her steed. “Good.”

“How are you?”

Her eyes droop. _“So_ tired.”

“Why?”

Resting her chin on her hands, Maren explains, “I didn’t sleep that much last night.”

Elsa frowns. “You didn’t? Why not?”

Maren blinks slowly at her, still smiling, laughs outright. “I was distracted.” Glancing at Elsa’s lips, Maren continues. “Made you blush.”

“Did not.” Elsa shoots a little stream of snow at Maren’s shoulder; she giggles, doesn’t even flinch. But she does sit back up.

“Ryder’s coming over.”

“That’s okay,” Elsa says quietly. She catches Maren glancing downward as she clasps her hands tightly in front of herself. Turning, Elsa waves as Ryder and his reindeer arrives. He waves back, clearly cheerful.

“Hi Elsa! How’s it going?”

“Same old, same old,” Elsa claims, a little loudly. Now Maren flinches.

“Is that so?” Ryder smirks casually, glancing to his sister. Before Maren can shoot him any glares, he bends closer to Elsa. “I have to thank you!”

“What for?”

He chuckles, points his thumb in Maren’s direction. “For getting this one to admit she has got to make a new shirt!”

“Com’ere!” Maren grunts, reaching towards him. Elsa stands between the siblings, and Maren puts a hand on her shoulder to support herself while she tries to grab or punch or otherwise challenge Ryder.

“No, no, no, just don’t tickle me!” Ryder yelps, signaling his mount to get out of the way.

Laughing merrily, Elsa tries to get out from under Maren’s weight. “Don’t hurt your brother.”

“You don’t tell me what to do!” Maren’s arm bends, and suddenly their faces are blushingly close. She’s smirking at Elsa for a split second when—“Shit!”—she loses her balance and starts to fall. Elsa doesn’t manage to catch her, but Maren does land in a fresh pile of snow. Her surprised face—and Ryder’s guffawing—are priceless. “Cold! Cold and wet!” Maren croaks, pushing herself up.

Elsa giggles into her hand, quietly offering a quick, “Sorry!”

Still laughing, Ryder directs his reindeer closer again. “I’ll want that shirt washed and dried when you give it back, by the way.” However, he shrinks away when a snowball flies up at him. As Maren stands up, Elsa notices a little purplish flame darting their way. A few reindeer startle, but most just get out of the way as the fire spirit leaps into the snow pile at Elsa’s feet.

Brushing off the snow still clinging to her, Maren turns to Elsa. “Thanks for the soft landing.”

“You’re welcome,” Elsa replies, playing along with her sarcasm. As Ryder returns once more, she turns her attention to him. “How are you today?”

His smile is bright, exclaiming, “I’m really excited! The men we met while looking for sweetgrass have a whole community closer to the sea to the east! They said they’d welcome us to visit after our calving season and before the rut.” He pauses, glancing down nervously but briefly at Maren, expressionless, so Elsa isn’t certain why… He continues loudly, “Maybe Yelena will have them visit us, too! And up here, there are no mosquitos, so much better than summers in the mist! It’s going to be a great summer!”

“The rut?”

Ryder pats his reindeer. “Yep! I guess that’ll be in three, tops five months?”

“It’s the mating season,” Maren explains. She pets her reindeer’s nose affectionately. A grimace crosses her face—so fast Elsa would have missed it if she’d blinked. “Calving season starts any day now, and it will be… a lot.”

Sighing, Ryder agrees. “Yeah. Not much sleeping.”

“Then over the summer the females will lose their antlers and the males are growing theirs back. After that, the males rut,” Maren finishes.

“Oh, of course you don’t know about the rut!” Ryder realizes aloud. He curls his fingers, holds his hands out in front of him. He mashes his fingers together. Maren and Elsa glance at each other, then look at him with confusion. At last, Elsa realizes he’s impersonating antlers crashing together.

Elsa admits, “I might be out of my depth here.”

“They like to fight over breeding,” Maren says.

“Don’t worry, so am I,” Ryder chuckles down at them. “Er… out of my depth, I mean. Not… I don’t fight over—” As his reindeer, he starts, “But I _quite_ like—!”

“Don’t!” Maren shouts. Rubbing her temple, she adds, “Just stop talking.” Elsa giggles into her hand.

“Mare is great at keeping reindeer healthy and alive, way better than I am.” He says it in jest—Elsa thinks—but there’s a quietude to his voice, and it’s reflected in Maren’s downcast eyes. “You should ask her about it sometime.”

“About what?” Maren asks, letting the reindeer she’s been petting walk away to graze.

“About reindeer!” Again, as his reindeer, Ryder adds, “You know everything about us.”

To Elsa, she confides, “He’s exaggerating.”

“I would like to know more, actually,” Elsa tells her.

“Great!” Ryder exclaims, waving and retreating. “You do that! See you later!”

Maren glances Elsa’s way when she breathes a sigh of relief. But she inhales sharply again when she feels Maren lightly clasp her hand. “Nervous?”

She shrugs and admits, “I think I’m always a little nervous.”

Nodding, Maren pauses to allow Elsa to continue. When she doesn’t, Maren shrugs. “What would you like to know about the reindeer?” The hand gently tugs her, and Elsa follows her. When little Bruni protests with the softest reptilian screams, she lifts her free hand to leave a trail of snow until they sit on a nearby boulder.

Elsa shrugs. “Have you ever helped with a reindeer being born?”

“Yes,” Honeymaren chuckles. “Tons. Way more than human babies, and it’s way less complicated. Not that I look forward to it.”

“Do you think this other Northuldra group will have reindeer?”

Pensive, Maren responds, “Perhaps. Seems like they’d probably fish more than we do, but they know about calving and rutting seasons and all that.” Maren leans back on her hands. “They must at least have a small _siiddat_.”

“A what?”

“Oh, we really do have to tell you more about reindeer. It’s a group of families that keep their reindeer together.” She shrugs, blinking heavily. “Technically not all the families in our community ‘have’ reindeer. But it’s different than ‘owning’ reindeer—I still don’t really get how money works.”

_God, money_. Elsa nudges her with her shoulder. “I’ll explain it sometime. That’s something I know too much about.”

“Oh?”

“When you’re queen, you’re kind of in charge of everyone’s money, no matter how much you’d rather not… I do wonder if I should go back over it with Yelena sometime, that bank account of the Northuldra’s might require a check in.”

Maren ponders at that. “Why don’t you handle it?”

“Me?”

“You _are_ Northuldra, and you get how this money works.”

“Yes, but—”

“Who would be better to advocate on our people’s behalf?”

Remaining silent, Elsa considers Maren’s suggestion. Sometime inside resents the idea of returning to controlling any peoples’ money. Yet Maren has a point, given that she better understands the odd nature of the… “gift” isn’t the right word for what the royal accounts did in establishing that bank account… Certainly the mathematics involved would be familiar to her. Should it or shouldn’t be familiar to her peers here, though? And what if such a role placed her in a position to abuse the power there, no matter her best intentions? Or threatened Anna’s role in some way?

Perhaps sensing her runaway thoughts, Maren changes the angle of their conversation: “I guess that’s kind of like the reindeer. Being ‘in charge’ of what’s not yours. They’re valuable to everyone, and everyone benefits from them. But technically the folks in the _siiddat_ are responsible for them, so they belong to us. If I wanted to give the new neighbors a reindeer, I could, but that one reindeer belongs to one family, and I’d be offered appreciation in some way for it in return.”

That doesn’t quite sound like money to Elsa. Appreciation had far less pleasant connotations at a bank. Not that it matters right now.

“So what do the spirits do all day?”

Elsa smiles to that question, looking down lovingly at Bruni the salamander, relaxing in his little snow pile. “I suppose they play with nature,” Elsa hums, looks back at Maren. The look in her eye catches Elsa off-guard. For a moment she suspects she’s going to be kissed out here in the open—admittedly, only surrounded by reindeer and Ryder, that’s probably okay—but Maren tears her intense gaze away.

“They play? No important ceremonies, no special prayers for our ancestors?”

“…No? Is that something that should be happening?”

Chuckling, she says, “I wouldn’t know!” Suddenly, Maren looks different—attentive and maybe even a little on edge. “The Northuldra do pray for and to our ancestors, we have rituals that do stuff for other spirits. But I guess the spirits of the forest are really _different_. It’s not like the sun itself walks around with us.” They both look at Bruni. He lifts his tail, hops up to his feet, stretches before zipping off. “Where’s he off to?”

Elsa shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you, but I’ll probably find out later today.”

“How?”

“Chances are he’s off to check the fires at home. He has another project he’s working on, too. You know once, the last time I went to Arendelle, Bruni tried to stow away with me?”

Honeymaren looks truly shocked. “He did?”

Elsa giggles with a hum, “I think he wanted to see Olaf, it was cute. I kept trying to leave with Nokk and the little guy would jump on. Obviously, the Nokk’s ice would start to melt and then Bruni’s falling into the water. I finally got him to stay by walking into the sea before getting on Nokk’s back.”

Maren shakes her head. “To think, that little critter used to be a thing of nightmares.”

“Do I want to know more about that?”

“Maybe not right away,” Maren suggests, crinkling her nose, cute. Suddenly she turns, her brow furrows dangerously. “Did you hear something?”

Elsa looks around them. Facing southeast, there’s not much to see beyond grass and the large rocky formations. Honeymaren grabs her staff and climbs up the boulder, so Elsa joins her. She follows her gaze around the herd.

**—Honeymaren—**

“What is it?” Elsa asks her quietly.

Methodically combing the herd with her eyes, Honeymaren mutters, “Not sure.” Gradually turning, she faces in the direction of the Gate, countless miles beyond her sight. Though she’s only left the forest once in her life, Honeymaren has an intensely embedded sense of space, knows exactly where the four pillars of stone are in relation to her.

Then she sees them. Shapes moving back and forth at the edge of the trees, occasionally nosing in her direction.

“Do you see something?” Elsa whispers.

“What’s going on Mare?” Ryder calls from behind them.

“I don’t know the word for them,” she says to Elsa, her posture relaxing. With the reindeer in her care, however, Honeymaren stays alert. “But I’ve met them before.”

“Them? What them? Where?” Ryder asks again.

Honeymaren whistles over her shoulder, and the trustworthy reindeer Pebble returns to her. She hops from the boulder onto Pebble’s back, tells her brother, “I’m going to check it out.” Then she remembers Elsa and turns to her. “Do you want to come?”

“Oh, okay.” But Elsa stays rooted to the spot.

“Hop on.”

“Are you sure?”

Honeymaren grins, patting Pebble. “You tamed a water spirit during a storm on the Dark Sea, and you’re worried about this little gal?” She pulls a cute face to emphasize her point.

“No, just… sticking the landing.” Elsa bounces on her toes for a second. When she pushes off the boulder, snow flurries push out from her bare feet, then whirl around her to ease her gently onto Pebble’s back behind Honeymaren.

“Was that Gale?”

“No.” Elsa seems pleased with herself. “Just me!”

With another whistle, Honeymaren directs Pebble forward. As the pace picks up, she feels Elsa grab at her belt. “You okay back there?”

“Just—different from horse-back riding!” Elsa mutters.

Honeymaren peeks back at her. “Maybe grab something else? So that my knife doesn’t fall off my belt?” Elsa nods, grabbing the tail end of Honeymaren’s short, borrowed tunic. It starts to yank down her back, still a little raw from the escapades of the previous few days. “Maybe not there either?”

Hesitant hands grab Honeymaren’s sides at the waist. _Oh right,_ she thinks, suddenly entirely too aware of a pleasant warmth inside herself. _It’s Elsa behind you_. A moment more passes, and those pale hands become more exploratory, edging forward around her stomach. Honeymaren squeaks.

“Did you say something?”

“Nope!” Honeymaren lies. They’re getting closer to the strange creatures, the canines from before, when the grip at her waist tightens. 

_“Those are wolves!”_ Elsa gasps, terrified.

“Wolves?” Honeymaren knows this word after all. Yelena’s mentioned this word before, as well as some of the elders in the _siiddat_. She ponders them, signals to Pebble to slow down.

“You don’t know about wolves?”

“I know _about_ them… in theory.” Still trotting, closing in on the pack, Honeymaren shrugs. “I heard about lots of animals left our woods. The mist didn’t affect them as much as us and the reindeer. And I’ve seen these ones before.”

“You have?” Elsa gasps, watching as Honeymaren dismounts.

“Yeah, several weeks ago, but they ran off. Are you coming?”

Elsa shrinks into herself, clearly frightened. If Honeymaren’s not mistaken, a chillier than natural breeze crosses over her shoulders. “They’re dangerous.”

“Aren’t we?” Honeymaren asks, lifting her staff with a gentle smile. Walking forward, she tells Elsa, “I’ll be right back.”

“Maren! Don’t!” Elsa hisses. Little does she know, that little nickname on her lips just emboldens Honeymaren.

As she marches on, two of the five wolves notice her. The pair sniff the air, then come trotting her way. Once they’re just ten meters apart, they stop again, smelling for Honeymaren. On instinct, she kneels down, eye to eye but ready to spring if she must. But one of the two wolves starts to wag its tail, trots closer still. It’s brownish grey, and Honeymaren recognizes her as the one that had first approached her weeks ago when Elsa had come back to the tribe. The wolf leans back, stretching her long furry legs, and sniffs around Maren so close that they could touch each other.

Now all the wolves have taken notice. And so, do humans, apparently.

“Honeymaren!” She looks back over her shoulder to see Yelena hissing at her from beside Elsa, who somehow makes Pebble look as graceful and elegant as the Nokk. Ryder must have sent her. “Get back here!”

“They’re friendly enough,” Honeymaren replies simply. As the wolf circles behind her, nose pushing against her hip, Honeymaren reaches her hand out in front of her slowly, palm up. Intrigued, both of the first two wolves trot to her hand and sniff at it. The second one loses interest, starts leaning into his companion, and she returns the gesture. Without further ado, the other three wolves offer Honeymaren some courteous sniffs. All five depart, traipsing into the woods.

Standing, Honeymaren watches—and listens to—them depart. When she turns back round to face her own pack, Yelena and Elsa look absolutely stunned. Pebbles, on the other hand, looks downright bored.

“What?”

Elsa leaps to the ground and runs to hug her tight. “You _scared_ me!”

 _Whoa!_ Even Honeymaren, as tired as she can, heats at the sudden contact. Over Elsa’s shoulder, Yelena blinks rapidly at the sight of them together. It might not be a kiss or an embrace, but anyone with sense could tell the difference between Elsa and herself. Coughing obviously against Elsa, Honeymaren nonetheless holds Yelena’s gaze as best she can.

“What were you thinking?” Yelena chastises.

“Nothing happened.”

“But—!” Elsa starts, grabbing Honeymaren’s hands and inspecting them. “Wolves! Real wolves!”

“They left the forest long ago,” Yelena tells Elsa.

“Anna and Kristoff have been attacked by wolves!”

Honeymaren bristles slightly, facing them both off. Quietly to Elsa, she asks, “Were they attacking or were they hunting?”

Again, someone blinks rapidly at Honeymaren, understanding sinking in.

“Honeymaren, not every wild animal is safe!” Yelena grunts. “They hunt reindeer!”

 _So do we_ …? But Honeymaren keeps that unrighteous, smug thought to herself. “They didn’t seem very interested in Pebble here. In any case, they’re allowed to eat, aren’t they? Aren’t we the strangers in their territory?”

“That’s not the point. If they—”

“I don’t think they even care about the reindeer, I’ve seen them twice now.”

Yelena balks. “Twice?!”

For once, Honeymaren ignores her. Instead she fixes her attention on Elsa’s anxious face. “Elsa, you’re not going to find anything. I’m okay.” Her blue eyes look up from Honeymaren’s hands, blonde brow turned upward, skeptical. As Elsa stands to her full height, Honeymaren’s heart beats fast, closes her hands around Elsa’s. For a moment, she’s lost in her proximity to Elsa, until a throat nearby clears.

_Yelena_.

Suddenly, Honeymaren’s hands are empty. Elsa finally caught on. Honeymaren glances back at her hands, then over to Yelena. Her mentor catches her scowl and looks away awkwardly.

\---

Sunrise. Honeymaren can see it from behind her eyelids. Gently, Ryder shakes her. “Hey, we’re all done.”

“Yay,” she mutters, opening her eyes slowly. Two silhouettes approach to take her and Ryder’s place watching the reindeer. He stands up first, offers her a hand up.

“Did you get a little sleep?”

“Did any trouble happen last night?”

“Nope,” Ryder assures her. “All quiet.”

“Then yes, I must have slept. Thanks, Ry.”

“What’s a brother for?” he says.

They hug. “What a wild few days.”

“Speaking of which…” Ryder nudges her again. Honeymaren looks over to his opposite side, toward a certain goahti made of ice among the nearest trees. She can see a small purple light flickering inside: Elsa’s awake. “You need to go home and change into your special outfit first?”

“Shut up.” But Honeymaren smiles, changing her direction.

“Hey, I still want _that_ shirt washed and dried before you return it!”

“Go away!” Honeymaren shoos her brother, already grinning. After a walk, she knocks on the door to Elsa’s abode.

“Come in!”

“It’s me,” Honeymaren says, opening the door. Elsa sits in her chair, a messy ponytail tied up, sipping at a cup of coffee. She pauses at the sight, Elsa standing immediately to greet her, and she sleepily lets herself imagine doing something like this for a long time into the future. _Don’t get ahead of yourself_.

“Would you like some coffee?” Elsa asks, coming closer with a second mug.

“Uh-uh,” Honeymaren mumbles, reaching out for her. She takes the cup from Elsa and sets it down, then wraps her arms around Elsa’s ribs. Pulling her close, Honeymaren tucks her face into Elsa’s shoulder and breathes deep. She used to smell like lavender (a flower she now knows after visiting Arendelle), but she also smells like sweetgrass now. A bit like coffee, too. Elsa hugs her back, hums happily. “May I?” Honeymaren asks, her lips just barely grazing over Elsa’s neck as she speaks. The little gasp she makes pleases Honeymaren immensely, makes her want to chase it. But she waits for confirmation.

“Yes,” Elsa whispers.

Honeymaren softly presses her lips to Elsa’s neck, sighing deeply. Leaning back, she smiles and kisses Elsa’s pretty face, meandering wherever she can reach. Her journey ends at Elsa’s lips, enjoying the returned affection found there. _Just wait ‘til I’m not exhausted_ , she thinks to herself.


	20. Chapter 19—Climb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Warnings, chapter's Teen tops
> 
> I really loved writing/editing this chapter (and honestly each one after makes me weirdly happy)

**—Chapter 19—Climb—**

**—Honeymaren—**

Fresh snow covers the ground, but Honeymaren sweats profusely, her shirt long abandoned on the ground. She remembers telling Elsa at one point that reindeer births are easier than human births, and she still believes that. This one reindeer in particular, however, has tested the limits of Honeymaren's patience. The ground beneath both the exhausted mother-to-be and Honeymaren is churned up. The thin layer from the overnight flurry has mixed into the mud below. She strains, elbow deep and covered in blood, until finally at long last, the calf’s leg safely turns. “Yes!”

Behind her: “You did it!”

Through her own grinding teeth: “Pass me the second rope.”

Without releasing the breached baby’s dangerous hoof, Honeymaren carefully reaches back in and ties the rope to this second hind leg, the first rope pulled taught by the woman behind her. Then Honeymaren gently guides both little legs out. Quickly, Honeymaren steps back away from the reindeer. As she scoops snow onto her arms, washing off as best she can, the reindeer gives birth with ease and speed, the ropes tugging to assist the drained new mother. Groaning, Honeymaren falls back on the ground. With the sunrise finally visible to her, she cries out, “Thank Beaivi!”

The face of the other young woman enters her vision. Jaska. Honeymaren glowers up at her. “You okay, Mare-Bear?”

“ _Don’t_ call me that. I’m fine.” Honeymaren rolls over and stands up, finds her new gákti that Ryder made for her, puts it back on. She continues, “Let’s just check on the others and get this day over with.” As she starts to walk away, she hears a swift approach behind her. A hand takes hold of her wrist and Honeymaren jerks away, turning on Jaska. Snarling, she hisses, “What is your problem, Jaska?! I told you no!”

Frantic, Jaska continues forward. “But Honeymar—”

“It’s been three years, Jaska. Move on.” Honeymaren blows her disheveled hair from her face. “And I swear, if you don’t get your parents to stop scheduling us together for siiddat, _depend_ on the fact that I won’t help them with any of their reindeer going forward. I’ll tell Yelena!”

“No!” Jaska yelps urgently, stepping back immediately. “Fine, okay, fine!” Honeymaren, seething, straightens up. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes, opening them again only when she thinks she can be kind. Ruining it, Jaska mumbles, “Sorry for loving you.”

Honeymaren scoffs. “This isn’t love, Jaska. That’s the point.” _It was never love, you're just fucking evil,_ she wants to add, but she bites her tongue. Whether she likes it or not, she has to live with her community members and… lead them or whatever, for a long time yet. She can say it later if she absolutely must. Without anything more to say, Honeymaren turns away again. It’s an hour early, but she’s leaving.

“Wait! Honeymaren, the calf!”

No one will care if she skips out early. “You got this! Have fun!” How anyone _doesn’t_ know about Jaska’s bullshit at this point is beyond her. _Except Elsa…_

Still steaming with anger, Honeymaren bursts into her lavvu. “Aurgh!”

“Wha—what is it?!” Ryder moans, sitting up in his bed. “Marrrrrrre?”

Sitting heavily by the firepit, Honeymaren groans loudly. So loudly, she eventually grabs a pelt and screams into it.

Ryder slurs through his sleepiness, “Use words, please?”

“I can’t do it anymore, Ry! I won’t!”

“Mmm,” Ryder groans, rubbing his face. “What are we not doing?”

“Wake up so I can complain.” She bursts back to her feet and starts pacing, startling Ryder again. “This is why we always do our siiddat work at the same time.”

“I can listen, I just can’t talk.” Ryder flops back down on his bed, but the sunlight from above points at his grimacing face.

Honeymaren starts rummaging around to make coffee. “She won’t leave me alone!”

Ryder turns to watch her, still trying to focus his gaze against the sunlight. “Who? Elsa?”

“No! Jaska!”

“Jaska the total dirtbag? The ex who is evil?”

“Yes,” she answers sinisterly. Honeymaren glares at the coffee pot. She starts talking with her hands, like Ryder does. “Three years, no apology!” Only Ryder talks with his hands when he’s excited; Honeymaren does it when she’s mad as fuck. “The moment I start just BEING around another person, suddenly her dads are insisting on changing the siiddat around and now I’m stuck around her for-fucking-ever! Just endless harassment! I’m done!”

“Mmm?”

“This week’s been ridiculous enough without her bullshit!” she shrieks. More than a week, to be honest. But since it's surely clear to everyone that she and Elsa aren't feuding anymore, Jaska's been intolerable.

“Then don’t befriend wolves?”

“Hey!” Honeymaren shouts, turning on him angrily. “They stopped tracking the reindeer as soon as they saw me! Turned into puppies. Haven’t been back since, so. Shut it.”

Ryder stands up and walks over to his sister, placing a hand on her shoulder as he rubs sleep out of his eyes. “You gotta tell Yelena about Jaska.”

Tightening her scowl further, Honeymaren grabs the coffee pot and pours it into their respective kuksas, roughly splashing them both. “I shouldn’t have to!”

Slowly, still in a sleepy stupor, Ryder asks, “Did you talk to Jaska?”

“Yeah, I told her to fuck off or I _would_ tell Yelena.” Honeymaren gives him his coffee, then returns to her own seat by the fire to brood.

“How’s Elsa feel about it?” He takes a long, loud sip of coffee and moans deeply. Smiling peacefully, he adds, “How did I live without this?”

“I’m not telling Elsa.” Honeymaren’s done her best during the calving season to keep Elsa out of the know of the unexpected drama. She’s been working with the reindeer far more than usual, in addition to her regular tasks and duties and lessons and basic fucking washing of dishes! _No thanks to Jaska’s family,_ she thinks ruefully, who coordinates the _siiddat_ … Complete exhaustion. What little time she has spent with Elsa lately, she largely concentrates on behaving herself as much as possible. Considering they largely cuddle while Honeymaren sleeps, she doesn’t give herself too much credit, even if Elsa seems to immensely appreciate that time.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Gulping down coffee herself, Honeymaren side-eyes Ryder. When she responds, her voice is quieter, but still assured. “I’m sure she knows I’ve been with other women before. Elsa’s just… inexperienced, not ignorant.” She nods decisively, convincing even herself.

Shrugging, Ryder nods, then sniffs at her. “Uh… was there a… complication last night?”

Groaning again, Honeymaren replies, “This morning. I’m gonna go get cleaned up.” She pauses, takes another gulp of coffee.

\---

At the edge of a nook in the river with a plunge pool at its center, Honeymaren rests surrounded by large boulders. Her hair splays out, floats on the surface. Although snow fell overnight, the sunshine will melt it all soon. The water’s cold, but she likes it. A part of her keeps wanting this, wants to feel the chill. She’s not in danger, not like before on the ice. Cold water doesn’t endanger Honeymaren; she has control. Not letting the fall through the ice take control of her is important to Honeymaren. Can’t let herself think ill of ice, not now, even if it is dangerous.

Sighing, Honeymaren turns to climb out of the pool when she notices movement in the water below. Hanging in suspended motion, she watches the glowing eyes deep down. _The Nokk_.

“Hey, water spirit.”

The glow disappears. Further downriver, away from her pool, the Nokk leaps out of the river and onto the water’s surface. His head lowers, exhales loudly and stomps, glaring at her.

Honeymaren holds very still, but nonetheless returns his gaze. “I already know you don’t like me.”

A warm breeze—Gale—corkscrews past Honeymaren and against the Nokk, who rears slightly, backing off. When he turns back her way, ears bent back, Honeymaren grins smugly. She kicks away from the nearest boulder, swims toward where she entered the pool. Considering the rocks that she climbed down initially, she moves toward a steeper boulder. Tentative, but curiosity drives her to find hand-holds. With surprising ease, Honeymaren pulls herself up, climbing well despite the slipperiness of wet stone and thin moss. Although she slips more than a few times, she recovers each time and pushes on. Summiting at last, she hops onto the balls of her feet a few times, laughing to herself. From way up here, the plunge pool looks mighty tempting.

So, naturally, she jumps. The water’s cold, and she likes it. While she rises from the pool for air, it strikes Honeymaren as somewhat unfair that she could have to go through the night she had with Jaska seeing her shirtless, yet with Elsa she is constantly on guard with her body.

This time, Honeymaren takes the easy climb out of the water. By now, the sun has begun to unleash itself, and the night snow has largely melted. With time to herself, she lays back on the rocks and lets the sun dry her off. In short order, Honeymaren reaches over to the fresh clothes she brought and puts them back on. When she stands up, she takes a moment to look at her reflection in the rippling water.

She has taken a liking to Ryder’s shorter style of gákti, yet seeing herself in one of the new shirts takes her aback. For a moment, now that she can see her legs fill her trousers, her arms and shoulders sturdy as the boulders beneath her feet, Honeymaren sees her father looking back at her through her reflection. Turning away, she becomes contemplative. Without a single thought as to why, Honeymaren starts to climb a nearby tree. The higher she climbs, the freer she feels. By the time she reaches the canopy of the birches, Honeymaren wears a glorious smile to match that of the clear sky above.

Memories of the mist aren’t all bad. Leaping tree to tree now brings it back: Learning to climb trees, winning wrestling matches with other kids, eating with her parents and being scooped up in their arms, following Yelena around to play tricks on her (until she started giving the little girl responsibilities, which she took _oh so seriously)_.

The present hits Honeymaren all of a sudden as she realizes she has reached the edge of the tree line. She sighs, closes her eyes, listening to the wind in the leaves. Adulthood keeps bringing more and more responsibility onto her shoulders. For a moment she fears she might break from the weight sooner or later.

Which makes her think of Elsa.

A wave of appreciation for her rolls through Honeymaren, heavy enough to close her eyes. Deep breath. Thinking of Elsa doesn’t make Honeymaren compare their experiences with leadership and responsibility so much as inspire her to recognize a strength she hopes to emulate. That admiration fills her up. As difficult as the last few weeks have been—particularly given her constant state of busy-ness and fatigue (emotionally, physically, any other -ly’s that existed)—Honeymaren feels assured during this small moment she’s taken for herself.

Well, maybe months. Maybe since Elsa arrived, turning the world upside down.

Upon opening her eyes, Honeymaren glances downward. _Oh!_ On another birch tree nearby, a chunky burl curls outward from high on its trunk. _Hello, handsome!_ She smirks inquisitively, repositioning herself. _You look like_ duodji _material!_ Before she can make the leap to investigate further, though, Gale blows into Honeymaren’s face and all around her. “Good morning!” The wind spirit chirps musically at her, dropping leaves and young blossoms onto her washed hair before exploring her new outfit. “Thanks for earlier, Gale.”

Honeymaren speaks too soon.

**—Elsa—**

Compared to earlier weeks, the sun has been up for ages when Elsa wakes. Opening her eyes, the shimmering branches with leaves starting to bud cast shadows through the ice walls of Elsa’s home. Although she can tell by the light that it’s early yet, she feels something pulling her to rise. _Must be one of the spirits_. The tug isn’t too strong, though, so Elsa unwraps herself from her blankets at her leisure. She dresses herself quickly enough and starts a kettle before stepping outside. Looking round, she sees nothing alarming. To the south, lavvus dot the landscape. Patches of snow melt here and there. Further east, the reindeer mill about, and through the trees, Elsa catches sight of some very small additions to the herd. But she doesn’t see Ryder or Honeymaren. The tug must be the project the spirits were all working on.

Yet a tug—different, closer—returns; Elsa looks up. A strong gust stirs the trees round her when she hears a voice. Above, she sees a wild fray of general forest debris flying through the air, and the figure of a person—a familiar figure. Elsa recognizes her and gasps.

Gale ceremoniously carries Honeymaren down, until the last meter or so when the spirit drops her.

“No Gale!” Pleased with her presentation, Gale blows round Elsa, mussing up her hair and playing with her nightdress. “Maren!”

From the ground, the woman in question guffaws.

“Are you all right?” Elsa asks, rushing forward. “You landed… uhm, that didn’t look good!”

Still laughing, Honeymaren rolls over and gingerly pushes herself up to her elbows. “That was something else!” She wipes at her eyes since her laughter draws out tears.

But Elsa notices dark circles there as well. “Can I help you up?”

Maren glances at her offered hand. She takes it, but she pulls—not so hard that Elsa would fall forward, but firmly enough to make a clear invitation. “Your pals are determined to mess with me today.”

Elsa smiles, enjoying the fluttering in her chest that responds to Maren’s irrepressible mirth. She sits beside Maren, retakes her hand and interlaces their fingers. “What do you mean?”

“The Nokk got to me earlier. Two down, two to go?”

_Nokk?_ Elsa frowns.

Maren must be as tired as she looks because she lays back down, still holding Elsa’s hand. Nonetheless, she reads Elsa’s confusion easily enough. “Oh, the Nokk doesn’t like me.”

“Doesn’t like you?” Elsa asks, incredulous.

Maren chuckles a bit, blinking slowly. “Haven’t you noticed?”

“No!” she starts. After a moment still considering Maren, she continues, “Are you okay?”

With a wave of her hand, Maren assures her, “No injuries, and the Nokk didn’t do anything thanks to Gale. That’s why she gets to carry me around like this!”

It is pretty cute, Elsa admits to herself. Honeymaren has tiny flowers tangled in her loose hair from Gale’s antics, and the way her new gákti moves over her body when she laughs is gratifying. However, a part of Elsa wonders about this assertion that one of the spirits doesn’t like Honeymaren—or worse, that one or more of them harass her.

“Wait, weren’t you and Ryder watching the reindeer overnight?” Something crosses Maren’s face, a look Elsa can’t quite place. It reminds her of the night of Ryder’s outburst, but it’s gone too soon to question.

“Not me and Ryder, just me and somebody else. It was a tough night. Five new calves, but one was breached. It took us half the night to save the little guy.” She sits up, lets out a heavy sigh, like she might fall asleep right there.

_Why do we only ever meet like this lately?_ A little sadly, Elsa asks, “Can I help you get home?”

Maren must catch the quaver in her voice. She lifts their linked hands, pulls them closer to her own chest. “Actually, since I’m here, we could spend some time together?”

Elsa takes a moment to consider. She still feels a tug, likely the Nokk, knows that she has her own business to attend to. Learning of Maren’s lack of confidence in the water spirit bends her somewhat, however. Plus, Honeymaren’s been so hard to spend time with lately that Elsa has been feeling slightly spurned. Surely the Nokk could wait a little while.

“Sure,” Elsa says at last, a pleased little grin spreads across her cheeks. Honeymaren sighs deeply, closes her eyes. After a moment, she lifts their entwined hands up and kisses Elsa’s knuckles. It’s such a small gesture, but Elsa sharply inhales, feels her power dance hot in her hand. Unconsciously, she redirects her power to her other hand, which crystallizes the wild grass beneath it. Once she exhales, it thaws immediately. Maren doesn’t seem to notice; Elsa sighs thankfully. As she opens her eyes to look at Elsa—lazily, peacefully—a sensation rushes through Elsa’s chest. She feels suddenly vulnerable under that gaze, as though her chest might unfurl like a sail.

Maren notices the look. She smiles, asking, “What? What is it?”

Terrified by and unable to look away from Maren’s chestnut eyes, Elsa murmurs, “You’re beautiful.”

Honeymaren looks taken aback, and Elsa quickly hides her face behind her knees and spare arm. Even as she looks away, she feels Maren move. Her own hand is wrapped up in both of Honeymaren’s, and Elsa hears her sit up and scoot in close to her. An arm wraps across her back to her waist. Sitting upright herself at the sudden touch, she sucks on her lips, turns to face Maren. She’s so close to Elsa, holding her, and she can feel her own racing heart through her whole body.

More quietly still, Elsa mumbles, “You can’t smile at me like that.”

Honeymaren’s eyebrows press inward, but the smile remains. “Like what? Why not?”

Hiding her face even more (if possible), Elsa whispers, “Because then I can’t think.” Hotheaded diplomats who wanted Elsa dead? No problem. Elsa could work on a trade deal and have those men sniveling on their way out. One beautiful woman smiling at her? Cannot function.

The cutest little laugh tempts Elsa out of hiding. The morning light on Honeymaren’s face truly overwhelms her sight. Elsa feels waves of emotions roll over her in such quick succession, it’s hard to keep track of them all. But she definitely feels a strong desire to remember this moment, maybe even recreate this laughter in the future.

“You are so shy now!”

“Now?” Elsa lifts an eyebrow.

She shrugs. “More than usual.” That smirk’s still there. Maren glances down at Elsa’s lips. Without meaning to, Elsa sucks her lips again, and of course Maren notices, licks her own, bends forward and—

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Elsa jumps to her feet, frost ready on her fingertips, spinning… and, she realizes too late that she left Maren to flop face first to the ground. Yelena grimaces. Below, Maren groans. “M-M—Honeymaren, I’m sorry!”

“I, uhm,” Yelena winces further. “This must not be a good time. Later, I need to talk to each of you. About separate things.”

Elsa wraps her arms tight around herself. Yet again, she feels the tug of the Nokk. In addition, she’s definitely a fierce shade of tomato. And now Yelena… She saw them. She _knows!_ But Honeymaren shakes herself awake and stands up in front of Elsa abruptly.

“What’s wrong, Yelena?” she asks.

Their great elder simply holds up her palm. “Honeymaren, it can wait.”

Something’s gotten into Honeymaren. Elsa isn’t certain what’s off: Honeymaren’s outwardly calm, controlled. Yet she never _looks_ like this around Yelena usually. “No, Yelena, you came all this way. What pressing matters are there?”

“You should sleep.”

“Yelena.”

“Honeymaren.”

After a moment of tense silence, Elsa steps between them. “Good morning, Yelena. How can I be of assistance?”

She shifts uncomfortably at first but accepts Elsa’s invitation. “With calving season nearly over,” Yelena starts, glancing at Maren, “we should be preparing to visit our sister tribe. But there are certain traditions and rituals that I would like us all to learn about beforehand. I need your help with one, Elsa.”

Despite herself, Elsa queries, “My help?”

Yelena simply nods.

“Right.” She turns back to Maren with a reassuring smile for a moment, but she looks about as confused and Elsa feels. “I’d be honored. However, I do have some business to attend to shortly that might take a while.” Catching Yelena’s dubious glance at Maren, Elsa adds, “With the spirits.”

“Elsa?” Maren places a hesitant hand on her shoulder. Even when Maren woke from hypothermia, she didn’t sound so small. Elsa considers her downcast face with surprise. She looks afraid, though Elsa can’t fathom as to why. As far as she knew, despite her own doubts and fears, what reason could Maren have to feel afraid right now in front of Yelena? Before she can respond or ask, Maren removes her hand and looks away.

“Very well,” Yelena says, draws her attention back. “Would you be available to help tonight?”

Nodding, Elsa returns her concerned gaze to Honeymaren. But she shrugs, hugs herself, looking oddly like how Elsa remembers herself in a royal portrait. Maren even smiles, but there’s something false about it, something sad. “I think I should go get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Elsa says, touching her shoulder as she walks by. Watching her go hurts.

Holding her breath, Yelena glances from Elsa to Honeymaren as the latter walks by her. “Uhm,” she groans, nods at Elsa and turns after her protégée. “Sorry, Elsa.”

Shortly after, she can hear Yelena and Honeymaren’s voices, indistinct but decidedly raised.

\---

The Nokk and Elsa hadn’t been able to get much work done, but she’s certain they’ll have time to travel properly soon. As it stands, Elsa returns to the community goahti, and within she finds Yelena bending over the firepit. When they catch each other’s eye, Yelena nods and Elsa waves. “I’m back.”

“Good, let’s set up,” Yelena responds. Just then, a wild little flame scurries across the ground and leaps into the firepit, bursting the stacked wood immediately. She jumps back, startled.

Elsa hides laughter behind her hand. “Bruni likes you,” she says, holding a chilled palm out. The flaming salamander leaps from the large firepit and into Elsa’s hand. She smiles down at him, gently stroking his tiny belly while Yelena recomposes herself. “So, how exactly am I helping tonight?”

Clearing her throat, the elder busies herself picking up several kettles. “You’ve got the most experience here with brewing coffee, so I need your help brewing enough for everybody.”

“Everybody? What for?” _At this time of night?_ Even with the sun still up, she knows that by the time they’re set up, it’ll be time for dinner for most families.

“We’re going to go over the old way of courtship,” Yelena says, motioning for Elsa to bring her a large vessel of water. “Specifically proposals.”

“Proposals?” She reaches out, freezes the water so she can lift the vessel into the air with her powers, drops the vessel close to Yelena and unfreezes it. Then she ties her hair back. “I thought—”

“We made do with what we had access to when the forest fell,” Yelena interrupts, already reaching an elegant wooden ladle in for water to fill kettles with. “And I’ll allow that some younger folks might want to keep doing things that way. Ryder comes to mind.”

Elsa grins softly at Yelena trying to soften up for her.

“I never much cared for the butterflies and old seed pods and reindeer myself. But our people need to understand the references other tribes make, whether they go that route or not.”

Bruni climbs up onto Elsa’s bare shoulder, sizzling happily, and she starts helping Yelena fill the kettles, setting them down on the stones surrounding the large fire pit once filled. “What on earth does that have to do with coffee?”

“You’ll see. Would you mind setting out some extra cushioning for everyone?” Elsa obliges. After her back is turned, Yelena speaks again: “How long have you and Honeymaren been…?” There’s something delicate to her voice, very unusual for Yelena, at least to Elsa.

Nonetheless, she fumbles the stack of pelts in her hands, feeling herself turn so red that Bruni’s body sparks with flame anew. She’s glad she’s not looking at Yelena directly. “N—not long. Well sort of. We, um, haven’t seen each other much because Honeymaren’s been busy with calves.”

After a pause, Yelena asks, “Is she why you left?”

 _Oh my god!_ Elsa screams within, willing herself not to look back again. _Please stop, please stop!_ “No!” Elsa sighs. “Well, once, but…” She hears Yelena sigh and turns, finds her sitting on a log bench nearby. Not for the first time, Elsa wishes her powers had more to do with shrinking and turning invisible. Instead, she keeps talking. “I can… We can stop if you don’t—”

“No no, Elsa,” Yelena shakes her head. A small smile reassures her. Still, Yelena sighs, leaving Elsa stuck, frozen in place. After some fretting at her hands, Yelena continues. “Elsa—I’m old. I’m younger than I look but I _feel_ as old as I look. Maybe older,” she adds sarcastically. “I carried on after the forest fell and my husband was spirited away from us and even after…” Her eyes gloss over. Elsa fights to move, watching Yelena struggle with some terrible memory, but can’t manage it. In any case, her leader composes herself quickly, saying, “That’s not the point. At one point, I even took a new partner, but—”

“A partner?” Elsa asks quietly. Her heart revs up, holding strict attention to Yelena’s next words.

“We never married,” Yelena explains. Her voice is back to normal. “But I survived beyond her lifespan as well. Had to. We all lost so much in the mist. Even if we didn’t suffer as many losses as those soldiers from Arendelle, no one who survived got out unscathed. Not just lives lost but…” Yelena’s eyes lose focus again, like she’s looking for something in her mind’s eye. Bitterly, she continues, “I had my whole life ahead of me when the mist fell. And it…” Yelena shakes her head. “I hadn’t planned for that. No one asked me to follow in his footsteps, it wasn’t expected of me, it just happened. Very unusual as a family member of the previous leader, my uncle, I mean. Or, uhm, unusual for us here. Ah…” Yelena shakes her head anew. “I don’t usually talk this much. Come on.”

When she stands back up, Elsa moves forward, reaches her hand toward her shoulder, but hesitates. “Yelena, I…”

Capturing Elsa’s gaze, Yelena holds it. “She didn’t think you’d come back. Both times.” As high as she’d just been flying, Elsa’s heart drops just as low. A lump fills her throat, threatening to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone  
> Is  
> A  
> Little  
> Bit  
> Bi
> 
> And toxic exes are everywhere!  
> And I love Yelena!


	21. Chapter 20—Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings (but there is a lil bit a language)
> 
> This might be my favorite chapter (the last chapter might be though).

**—Chapter 20—Stars—**

**—Elsa—**

The community goahti is getting crowded, and Maren hasn’t arrived yet. People mill about and Elsa stands near the fire, fretful fingers pulling at each other. Yelena stokes the fire, but watches her.

“Hey, snowflake,” Yelena says. “Don’t worry.”

She tries to smile. It’s a cute nickname, at least.

When she looks back at the door, Ryder and a yawning Maren walk in. For an instant, Elsa’s overwhelmed, her feet literally freezing to the ground. Maren’s hair is braided again, and the memory of the first time they shared a fire comes to Elsa’s mind. Her gentle confidence shown through even then, ready and willing to both believe Elsa—believe in her _promise_ —and give her room to grow, yet offer guidance. Opening a door and letting Elsa choose to go through it or not. Even now, Maren’s sheer magnetism works its own magic on her.

Sort of. Elsa’s still frozen, even as her every nerve jumps to life at the sight of Honeymaren. What if she always came back… to her?

Behind her, Elsa feels Yelena push her forward, just enough to break the ice at her feet. “Breathe,” she reminds Elsa.

_Breathe!_

At last, she does. Elsa walks toward Honeymaren, their tribespeople parting for her with friendly glances and greetings. She keeps her focus on each step, every breath. Ryder sees her coming, smiles encouragingly, nudges Maren with his elbow. When she looks up, Elsa almost freezes again. Her heart races as she approaches. But… what isn’t attractive about Honeymaren? Her entire personality, obviously. Even when she's mad at Elsa... especially then. But now that Elsa recognizes her feelings, everything else comes into focus: bright brown eyes, gorgeous hair, perfectly calloused hands, a… temptation under leather garments. It’s all something Elsa’s never felt before meeting Honeymaren. And yet somehow, she feels brave.

Maren smiles casually at first glance, then flushes slightly as Elsa approaches. She’s coming closer than she’s ever done in front of others. “Elsa?”

“Hi, Maren,” Elsa breathes shakily. Biting her lip, she offers her hand.

“Hey,” Maren replies quietly. She watches Elsa, perplexed and curious. But she takes Elsa’s hand, caresses her knuckles with her thumb.

Swallowing fear, Elsa pulls, and Honeymaren yips with surprise. Taking both of her hands now, Elsa finds herself practically panting through her panic. Nonetheless, she courageously presses onward, determined. She doesn’t just want to do this for Maren, she _needs_ to do this. For them both. Elsa pushes herself forward, first pressing her forehead to Maren’s, then closes her eyes so she can be daring. After a deep breath, she leans further forward.

“Elsa!” Maren gasps. Elsa presses her lips softly against Maren’s. A second later, Maren's whole body responds, gentle yet enthusiastic. They don’t linger, separating with haste. Maren’s hands lift to Elsa’s shoulders, rubbing them reassuringly. She still looks shocked. Very much aware of the eyes around the room that must be on her, Elsa tucks herself against Maren’s body, hiding her face against her neck.

Finally, she speaks. “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too!”

“Let’s get started,” Yelena calls loudly. Dislodging herself, Elsa gives Maren’s hand one more squeeze before retreating. A spark of pride disrupts her fears at the sight of Honeymaren’s astonished face.

She’s ready to make a promise that, for once, she’ll keep.

**—Honeymaren—**

As Elsa walks away, her blonde hair shining like sunlight, Honeymaren stands stock still, only blinking even as the _entire_ tribe settles into seats for Yelena’s lesson. Ryder takes a fistful of the back of her shirt and yanks her down to sitting. “What was that?!” he asks, laughing with delight.

Still stunned herself, Honeymaren simply shakes her head, says, “I don’t know. Only Athohallen…” All around them, their people buzz about excitedly. A nearby group of teenagers—including twins Ailu and Suanjar—lean over to nudge and pat her on the back. Girste smiles brightly at her from across the room. Before she sees more reactions than she cares to, Honeymaren fixes her gaze on Yelena and Elsa near the center of the room. Elsa’s blush spreads across the back of her shoulders, and Honeymaren feels absolutely weak at the sight.

“Not what I expected after you got back this morning!” Ryder continues, slapping her back.

A sound comes out of Honeymaren that’s supposed to be a laugh but sounds more like a teenager’s voice cracking mid-scream. Then she remembers this morning, pre-nap, and she glares at Ryder to her best ability. “I’m still mad at you for telling Yelena about Jaska.”

He laughs again, clearly unconvinced. “You weren’t ever going to!”

“That’s the point! I didn’t give you permission.” Honeymaren notes. “You made my business everyone’s business.”

“I think Elsa did that just now,” Ryder chuckles.

Her anger rises. “That’s _not_ the point! She’s one half of this thing we _two_ are doing, so _she_ gets a say. You don’t!”

“It is my say if you keep waking me up to complain.”

“You had no right to talk about _me_ in _that way_ to _Yelena,_ ” she hisses. “Yelena! Not after we lost—”

“All right, everybody got their kuksa?” Yelena calls from the center of the room, definitely irritated.

Quietly now, Ryder insists, “But Jaska wouldn’t leave you alone! You couldn’t even sleep!”

Honeymaren unhooks her kuksa from her belt. “No excuses. I _needed_ to be the one to tell Yelena. Pay attention.” He huffs, but remains silent and retrieves his own cup from his belt. Yelena and Elsa start pouring coffee into kuksas, and Yelena starts explaining. But Honeymaren is _not_ paying attention. Rather, she watches Elsa, considering her from afar. Desire rushes through her, followed swiftly by terror: Elsa approaches none other than Jaska herself, and her fathers. Even Ryder gasps beside her. Nothing beyond pleasantries seems to pass between them as Elsa pours their coffee, leaves to acquire another kettle. But Jaska immediately glowers at her _and_ Honeymaren.

“Oof!” Ryder exhales. “Think _she’ll_ kill me?”

“Should have thought about that before you talked to Yelena.”

“Now, it’s important to note,” Yelena continues speaking, and Honeymaren nudges Ryder to pay attention. “…that generally, this ritual would be accompanied with reindeer cheese of a firm consistency, formed specifically for dipping.”

Elsa approaches them again, still pouring coffee. The teenagers giggle at her approach. Ryder grabs a growling Honeymaren before she can turn on them. “Shit Mare, no wonder those wolves like you.”

Making a mental note to kick his ass later, Honeymaren looks up at Elsa wide-eyed. She smiles down at her, biting her red lip as she pours coffee for the siblings. “Elsa,” Honeymaren whispers. “You… I thought you didn’t want people to know.”

But she doesn’t respond with anything but a smile before continuing on.

“And then,” Yelena practically shouts, since apparently few are listening, “once the coffee is prepared for the family of the intended, _if_ that intended person wants to signal to their family that _they_ as an individual consent to a betrothal and wish to accept the proposal, they would then leave the home and unsaddle the proposer’s reindeer or steed for them.”

_Unsaddle their steed?_ Honeymaren wonders, Yelena’s words registering at last. She looks down at her coffee cup and sips at it, contemplative.

\---

Leaning by the door, Honeymaren watches everyone mill about, eager to enjoy each other’s company outside in the evening sunlight. Ryder had enough good sense to leave her alone and go talk to his friends (probably about how he would _not_ prefer the old, coffee-bound way of proposing). Her leg twitches beneath her until Elsa emerges at last.

“Hey!” she says, quickly reaching for Elsa’s shoulder. Her hand ends up in Elsa’s hair instead, and although she flinches, Elsa doesn’t move away from the touch. Or move at all.

“Maren!” Although Elsa smiles, giggly, Honeymaren notices her look at everyone around anxiously. She swiftly removes her hand.

“You wanna go for a walk?”

Her stomach flips when Elsa worries at her ruby lips without looking away from her. “We can stay here.”

“But what do you want, Elsa?” Honeymaren asks. “What would you like?”

Nodding quickly, she replies, “Let’s go for a walk.” Before Honeymaren can respond, Elsa takes her hand and leads her through the crowd.

They have yet to leave the crowd when Honeymaren asks, “Did you—excuse us—I thought that you didn’t—pardon—how come…” But Elsa’s not even pretending to humor her as she pulls Honeymaren into retreat. More than a few heads turn, smiles all around. A bubble of joy and pride starts thrumming with Honeymaren’s every heartbeat. She starts up a jog, ready to pull Elsa along instead. Eager to follow, Elsa’s grip relaxes and she matches Honeymaren’s pace.

Around them, the sunset coaxes out fireflies, arctic foxes, the first woodland birds to return from migration as they reach the birch trees. When Elsa lets go of her hand, a momentary panic runs through Honeymaren, until she sees her devilish smirk. Elsa shoots ice out in front of her and jumps, sliding her way down a hill. Smirking, Honeymaren sprints at a tree and scales it quickly, chasing after Elsa by leaping across the branches under the sky’s pinks and yellows.

Elsa calls up from below, “Think you can keep up?”

“I thought you wanted to go slow!” she shouts back, cackles like she did as a kid. Honeymaren acts quickly. She descends as she runs across the branches until she can safely jump through the air and somersault across the forest floor, running right beside Elsa. Panting, Elsa does slow down, shaking her head at Maren’s sudden arrival. Breathless herself, Honeymaren turns back.

“I thought you wanted to go slow.”

Elsa nods. “I did. I do.”

“Then what was that back there?” Honeymaren shortens the distance between them cautiously, half expecting Elsa to bolt the closer she gets. Elsa doesn’t shrink or startle. In fact, she steps forward to meet her, watches Honeymaren through her eyelashes. Barely daring to breathe, Honeymaren looks back and forth between Elsa’s smiling blue eyes.

Elsa whispers, “I know I’m new to this. I know I’m trying to unlearn a lot of things to let you in.” Her blue eyes focus downward; Honeymaren feels Elsa run fingers lightly across her hands, her palms, her wrists. “But Maren!” she gasps, finally looking up.

_Mmmm, Maren!_ It sounds so good when Elsa says it.

“I need you to know, I’m not going to run away. Even when I have to go away, I promise, I’ll come back. I’m not leaving you behind anymore.”

Honeymaren embraces her fast. She fastens her arms round Elsa’s back, smashes their lips together. Aside from a surprised moan, Elsa doesn’t protest, actually kisses back and tangles her fingers in Honeymaren’s hair a moment later. Inhaling through her nose, Honeymaren softens her lips while still pulling Elsa close, determined to _really_ kiss her. No polite pecks or timid touches.

And Elsa’s lips are _so_ soft. And _trembling_. She keeps kissing, leading Elsa through the motions. Smiling, she opens her lips with every kiss, only barely. Just enough to let Elsa know that it’s an option. Her lips match Honeymaren’s pace, responding to the slightest turn, the gentlest tug, and every ounce of fervent pressure. Elsa tightens her arms round Honeymaren’s shoulders. In turn, Honeymaren runs her hands up and down Elsa’s back, relishing her gasp as Honeymaren’s hands cross over her bare shoulder blades. The way Elsa’s back shifts, showing off her shuddering breaths, somehow cool and warm to the touch.

Honeymaren resists breaking the kiss to shout. _Fuck, I love this dress!_

She knows immediately that it’s unintentional, but Elsa licks her lips as she gasps. It gives her ideas. Honeymaren licks her own lips, lets her tongue linger there as they kiss. And this woman, for fuck’s sake, shyly licks her lips again. Humming her encouragement, Honeymaren bites her own lip, decides to give Elsa a bit of a break. Elsa’s eyes flutter open, completely dazed and full. Her brow furrows, focuses on Honeymaren’s lips. Before Elsa can make her obvious next move, Honeymaren changes trajectory, distracting Elsa by dragging her fingers hard down her back again, stopping at her hips. With another divine gasp reaching her ears, Honeymaren smiles broadly, relishes Elsa’s fingers in her hair, presses her smiling lips to Elsa’s jaw, her ear, and downward from there.

And Elsa _moans_. A shivering, crackling moan that runs through Maren’s whole body, pooling heat in her stomach and shooting back out to her fingers like lightning. Without meaning to gasp, she sucks in through her teeth, and Elsa’s hands tighten in her hair, pulls her face off Elsa's collarbone.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, that was an accident!” Honeymaren insists, lifting her hands away immediately.

“ _Honey…_ ”

Honeymaren shivers at the sound. Elsa’s breathless, but her hands are pulling on Honeymaren’s head in a way that’s gentle yet firm, and also decidedly _not_ romantic.

“Uh, Elsa?” she asks as the blonde seems to… inspect her. “Elsaaaaaa?”

“Hm?”

“What’re you doing?” 

“I did something to your hair!” Elsa squeaks.

“Huh?” Honeymaren stands upright, shaking Elsa’s hands off her head and takes hold of those hands herself. “You’re shaking!”

“I’m fine!” Elsa blubbers. “But—”

Thinking quickly, Honeymaren brings Elsa’s hands up to her lips, asks, “May I?”

“Maren, yes, but we need—”

One by one, Maren kisses each individual knuckle. Bit by bit, Elsa’s breathing slows and the trembling stops. When she looks up at Elsa again, her blue eyes swim in tears just above her. Nothing a quick kiss on her nose won’t fix.

Elsa hums at the final kiss. When her eyes flutter again, Honeymaren’s pleased to see a little smile. “So, what’s wrong with my hair? Did you mess it up?”

“No,” Elsa sighs. She forms a circle with her hand and pushes outward, forming a perfect disc of ice that lands in Honeymaren’s hands. “Look.”

Honeymaren almost drops the mirror when she obliges, reaching up to her hair. “Whoa!” With the sunset glowing through the trees behind her, she looks like a window into the night sky. Her dark hair, indeed pulled from its braid, sparkles with… starlight. She looks like the trees touched by the wind spirit back when the Northuldra first sang the joik of their people to Elsa and Anna, spots of light mysteriously glowing among their branches.

“I’m so sorry, Maren, I don’t know what I did. You’re not hurt, are you?”

Staring at her reflection wide-eyed, Honeymaren proclaims in a whisper, “This is awesome!”

“What?”

More forcefully, she exclaims, “You’re amazing!” Honeymaren turns, examining her reflection from different angles.

Elsa giggles uncomfortably. “You sure about that?”

“Completely,” Honeymaren sighs, smiling. To her delight, Elsa steps forward, an unspoken query that Honeymaren answers quickly. She wraps her arms around Elsa’s waist, pulling her close. Although taller, Elsa folds into her, ducks her face against Honeymaren’s neck, taking deep breaths that tickle her ear. “I’m okay,” Honeymaren assures her, nuzzling into Elsa’s silky hair and rubbing wide circles over her back. “I’m happy, Elsa.”

They stay together this way for a while. When Elsa finally pulls back, Honeymaren does the same. The sun has long past set, and the dim moonlight pearls Elsa’s skin, her hair, her dress. Carefully, she reaches up and runs her fingers through Honeymaren’s hair, plainly admiring it.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone today,” Elsa sighs. She pauses, sighs again before continuing. “But I really do need to attend to something to the west.”

Honeymaren nods, closing her eyes at the sensation of Elsa’s hand carding through her hair, brushing against her cheek. “Some fifth spirit stuff?” Her voice cracks a little, and she hates that she let that little tinge of doubt out.

Blonde eyebrows compress upward—she heard it. “Yes.”

“I believe you,” Honeymaren says, presses her forehead to Elsa’s, willing her words to be true.

“I won’t be gone long. I promise.” She licks her lips, kisses Honeymaren soft and light. Although Honeymaren wants to push further, give more, she holds herself back and nods to Elsa instead.

“Okay.”

“Just…” Elsa starts, takes a shuddering breath, gazes at Honeymaren with longing. If Honeymaren thought she could imagine what it would feel like to see _that look_ in Elsa’s bewitching eyes, she now knows that she thought wrong. Cautiously, Elsa tilts Honeymaren’s chin up with the tips of her fingers. The touch is so delicate that Honeymaren smiles at the gentleness of it. “Just a little longer?”

Humming in agreement, Honeymaren smiles against Elsa’s cheek, planting fresh kisses there. A tiny hopeful sound echoes in Elsa’s throat as she bends into Honeymaren’s touch. She trails her lips across Elsa’s jaw slowly to match the pace of her hands, wrapping back around Elsa’s waist with patient control. A timid giggle meets Honeymaren’s ears, delighting her as Elsa offers pecks in return, attempting to remain open to Honeymaren’s kisses while returning the kindness. Honeymaren kisses Elsa’s wanting lips slow, soft, deep. Anything to drag this out as long as possible, to revel in this unbelievable reality.

\---

Honeymaren doesn’t shudder or otherwise react much when she feels the earth shake beneath them. She leans back, bites her tongue, restrains herself with a deep breath. To Elsa and her fluttering eye lashes, she simply says, “I’ll see you soon.”

As if on cue, an earth giant approaches through the dark. When it steps into the moonlight, Honeymaren gasps, perplexed and intrigued. This one’s shorter than the trees and looks distinctly like a wolf. A huge wolf. “Whoa!” she gasps, “I’ve never seen an earth giant like that!”

Elsa nods in agreement. “You should see them all together sometime.”

“Have you?” Honeymaren asks, helping Elsa up to the giant’s back. Instead of answering, Elsa shrugs playfully, flips her hair over her shoulder. _So you do know how to flirt!_ Honeymaren smirks. “Travel safely, Elsa.”

Gazing at Honeymaren’s hair, still twinkling with stars, Elsa quietly replies, “Sweet dreams.”

Honeymaren watches them depart, stays long after they’re gone. At long last she shakes herself, starts walking back home. Around her in the dark, she can hear all sorts of creatures, a distinct difference to the woods she grew up in. Perhaps the earth giants had new inspiration from the forest coming back to life.

On her way, she passes the river and the plunge pool where she had gone swimming early this morning. She meanders close enough to the boulders to peek down. To her surprise, the Nokk rises on the water above the pool, meeting her gaze. Honeymaren yelps, jumping back into a defensive position, on her toes and fists up, on instinct. Remaining in said position, she edges forward again. The Nokk’s still there.

“What do you want?” she barks.

The Nokk snorts at her, turns its ears back, stomping. Honeymaren’s only seen live horses during her visit to Arendelle last autumn, but she’s got a feeling those are not friendly signs. Despite everything Elsa’s done for the spirits, Honeymaren suspects the Nokk is not as de-enraged as the others. _I should go._

Yet her gut protests, churns. She wants to climb down and confront the beast. Chittering bell sounds meet her ears, and Honeymaren feels Gale blow her hair out, still full of stars, off her back and to the side of her face. Below, the Nokk rears and screeches at the sight. Meanwhile, a heat climbs up one of Honeymaren’s outstretched legs, up her back, sitting on her shoulder—Bruni.

“What’s your problem with me?” Honeymaren finds herself yelling down to the water spirit. Yelena’s voice comes to her mind’s ear, what she said about the unsaddling of a steed. An angry, prideful heat all her own rises to her neck and upper back, egging her on. The fire spirit jumps from her shoulder as Honeymaren walks down to the lower boulders, keeping her eyes locked on her adversary.

He snorts, so she snorts back; the Nokk stomps and she responds in kind. Screaming again, the Nokk charges at her. Although Honeymaren inhales sharply, she doesn’t budge. Of course, he pulls up at the water’s edge, rearing and splashing. She feels her heart beat hard and fast against her chest, but not from fear.

She’s furious.

Before she’s thought it through, Honeymaren lunges with a scream of her own, grabbing a fistful of watery mane and pulling herself across the Nokk’s back. A small inner voice in her head cringes, knows this is ridiculous. Most of Honeymaren’s inner voice eggs her on.

His protests begin immediately. Honeymaren can barely comprehend what she’s seeing as he bucks and rears and fights. She expected as much and focuses on holding on, still screaming right back at him. Both of her fists yank on his mane as the Nokk runs toward the boulders, throwing his side at them to beat her against the rocks. As she cries out in pain and anger, Honeymaren has one coherent thought: _What a fucking day._ That Elsa could be so brave and _still_ something stands in their way eggs her on.

Honeymaren can feel Gale blowing at them, can see purple flame intermittently as the Nokk spins round the pool, hits her against rocks, and even runs out to the main river. He’s exhausting her, her grip is slipping, but her rage digs her knees and knuckles in harder. Suddenly, the Nokk throws himself at the river, and Honeymaren finds herself pushed into the rushing water under his weight. She tries to hold on to him, kick at him to force him up so she can breathe. But she knows this was a lost battle before it even started.

When she lets go at last, the Nokk dematerializes into the water, and she surges into the air, coughing. Honeymaren struggles to breathe for several minutes, treading water until she finally gets air. Above her, the Nokk reforms, bends his neck down to face her. She glares and he meets it.

This time when he huffs in her face, Honeymaren’s struck through her chest, not by anything physical but by a strange sensation, a thought not her own. An accusation:

_You still don’t trust her._

The Nokk turns away, gallops downriver, leaving Honeymaren to face his bitter conviction, floating alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee is important. I didn't include the whole explanation of coffee and marriage proposals, but it is interesting stuff!


	22. Chapter 21—Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings, besides adult language we all knew when we were 10  
> It's not exactly fluff, but it's pretty close.

**—Chapter 21—Thunder—**

**—Ryder—**

The exact moment that Ryder wakes up, he smiles. He untangles himself from his bedroll, leaping up butt naked and quickly pulling clothes from his pack. Once he’s dressed, Ryder rushes around the camp, joining other early risers. When he sees Heaibmu, Gides, and itty bitty baby Varva, Ryder rushes over, offering to hold the baby while the parents finish packing up. Ryder coos over Varva in the rising sunlight, and he smiles out at the camp. Slowly, however, he realizes something’s amiss.

_Where’s Honeymaren?_

Dutiful as ever, he stays with Varva and her parents. Despite his concerns, Ryder’s enthusiasm is not so easily hampered. Even when Varva starts crying, he waves off her mother and starts making funny faces for her. That brightens her up long enough for a smell check. Sure enough, she needs freshening up. Without hesitating, he lifts her tiny dress and wipes her off. Nearby he spots a helpful item.

“Hey, is this her bag?”

Gides looks up. “Yes, it is! Hold on, I’m just about ready.”

Ryder picks the baby up and cradles her to his chest while her mother starts tying a swaddling pack to her back. Once Gides is ready, Heaibmu carefully opens the said leather bag filled with soft moss and Ryder carefully places Varva within it, head out, the two men trading responsibility for supporting the infant’s neck. In turn, Ryder holds Gides’ back wrap open while Heaibmu places the moss bag within, gently tightening the soft band that supports Varva’s neck. Almost immediately, she’s asleep.

“Thank you, Ryder,” Gides hums. “That went a lot faster than usual!”

“Anytime.” He waves and jogs back toward where he’d been sleeping. When he gets there, he can barely believe his eyes. Amazed, he shakes his head and slowly tuts. Ryder bends down for his sister’s staff and steps back. From a safe distance, he starts prodding her. “Mare!” he barks, biting his _upper_ lip nervously. “Time to get up!”

Honeymaren groans—short and angry. _Well what else is new?_ he thinks, chuckling to himself. Again he prods, and again Honeymaren shifts, kicking out. Ryder tries to stifle a coo, because seeing his big sister kick around while trapped in her bedroll is _the_ most adorable thing. And he was just cradling a literal baby.

“Come on,” he sings to her once more, “you can do it. Get up!”

“Lemme’lone.”

“Oh come on!” Ryder says. He purses his lips, resists the urge to tease her with promises of a certain woman of interest. She’d just beat him up for lying—and these days, he suspects she really _could_ outmatch him again, for the first time in many years. “Mare, wake up!”

“Ffffffine!” Honeymaren growls, sitting up in her bedroll. She blinks against the light a few times, eyes focusing on him. “What is it?”

Thinking she might be too out of it to do much harm, Ryder steps closer, nudging her once more with her staff before kneeling beside her. “I’m up before you.”

She grumbles in response.

“You _always_ get up before I do, Mare.”

“Congratulations are in order then,” Honeymaren groans. Then she headbutts him.

“Ow!” Ryder grabs his head, falls dramatically onto his back.

“That wasn’t that bad.”

“It was also unnecessary!” Feigning further dramatics, he drapes his hand across his chest. “I thought to aid you, because surely you were sick!”

Rolling her eyes, Honeymaren huffs through her nose. “M’not sick.” She climbs out of her bedroll in undergarments and an old undershirt with the sleeves torn off. With her back turned to him, she pulls one of her packs over and starts pulling clothes out when Ryder spots a pale blue flash within.

“You brought your special magic shirt?” Ryder squeals. "That's _so_ cute!"

“It’s not a big deal,” Honeymaren grumbles, and he can practically hear her eyes rolling. “And it’s not a special magic anything.”

“You think she’ll catch up to us then?” he asks. Elsa had been gone less than a day when Yelena made the call: Enough reindeer had had their calves that a group could make the trek to visit their sister tribe on the coast.

Honeymaren huffs. “Maybe she will, maybe she won’t, that’s not the point.”

Pausing, quieter, but still poking at her, he asks, “You think she’s coming back?”

Her anger rises quickly. “Yes, she’s coming back!” Honeymaren snaps at him, spinning to glare at him over her shoulder. He knows he should feel bad for egging her on, but sleepy-angry Honeymaren is one of Ryder’s most favorite adorable things that he only gets to enjoy rarely. His sister turns away, croaks, “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, sorry,” Ryder says, crawling closer. “I’m just teasing.”

“Well don’t,” she mopes sleepily. Changing her shirt, she starts looking for pants, misses them during the first pass. “She promised she’s coming back,” Honeymaren says, sighs, and now Ryder feels her really trying—the way he felt Elsa’s sorrow that winter night months ago. Not just empathy, he's plunged in it, suddenly knows a whole trajectory of feelings he couldn't possibly know. Just as suddenly, he's out of it, untapped from a stream of emotional energy as real to him as the flow of a river or the flow of time. “So she’s coming back.”

_To you,_ he finishes in his head, shaking himself a little at the suddenness of his experience.

Standing up, she pulls her pants up and fastens them, saying as she does, “I’m fine.”

_You are not fine_.

“Really!” Honeymaren insists, straightens her bangs with her fingertips, starts to braid her dark hair. Starless hair. He keeps catching her looking at her hair, hoping her lights will come back. “Let’s just get ready?”

“Okay.”

Quickly, she glances around. “You didn’t make coffee yet, did you?”

He grins guiltily. “No.”

\---

After a lengthy period of packing up—mostly due to lengthy conversation rather than the actual packing—the large group of Northuldra from the Forest That Fell mount their reindeer, riding through the northern mountains with barely contained excitement. Ryder's sister stays close to Yelena when she has something important to learn, which is most of the time these days, and without any other immediate family left to tease, Ryder prefers to spend as much time close to Honeymaren as possible. Thus, Ryder overhears a fair number of her conversations with Yelena. And Yelena talking in general. Case in point, she groans, “I’m getting too old for this.” Her reindeer trots along smoothly enough, but he can’t imagine this trip has been easy for her. Honeymaren pulls her own reindeer closer to Yelena’s, but not so close that her reindeer or their packs could jostle Yelena’s steed. She offers her a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, we can’t be too much farther.” Over her shoulder, Honeymaren exchanges a glance with Ryder and he offers a sympathetic smile. They would never have tolerated leaving her behind if she’d suggested it, but he’s glad Yelena didn’t join them on the visit to Arendelle. Still, he had hoped she would see that strange city one day—she’d earned a spectacle after decades of hard work. Seeing her uncomfortable on this journey has been the one sour note to an otherwise wonderful adventure.

The air smells different, Ryder notices. It’s been changing all day: saltwater. The large traveling party—almost half the tribe, including whole families—practically vibrates with excitement. Around midday, he notices Honeymaren suddenly sit up straight, attentive. He gasps excitedly.

Egging his reindeer up to her, he whispers, “What do you hear?”

Honeymaren’s smirk lights up her entire face, and it feels contagious. “I hear the ocean!” She whoops and takes off. Ryder chases after her as her reindeer gallops up ahead, smiling back at Yelena as she waves them off with a grin of her own. Through the sparse trees, they dash to the top of the last little hill of the mountain pass they’ve traveled thus far. With great mountain ranges on either side—uncarved by ancient glaciers like this pass certainly was—the siblings pause at their much lower summit, gazing out at the northern coast. From this vantage point, Ryder can spot the signs of a river trailing down toward that beautiful sea. Nestled between the river and the ocean, smoke rises.

“We made it!” Ryder shouts. Honeymaren laughs joyfully, and behind them they can hear the others yell excitedly, getting closer. Turning back to his sister, he puts on his reindeer voice: “Can we race?”

“Ryder.”

Putting on another reindeer voice—for Honeymaren’s ride—he persists. “It’ll be so much fun!”

“We’re not racing,” Honeymaren warns him.

Yelena’s voice carries up to them. “Don’t you dare race!”

His sister catches his eye and smirks again, mischief lurking behind her brown eyes. “Yet.”

“Ohohoho! Yes!”

Ryder bides his time, impersonating his dutiful sister in a performance that would surely make his childhood-self proud. The group takes most of the rest of the day to get down the pass. They reach the river; someone finds a Northuldra-style bridge at a gentle, shallow spot. Before the last reindeer finishes crossing, Honeymaren and Ryder are standing by their respective reindeer. Antsy. Fidgeting. Staring at Yelena’s back as she checks on everyone. Finally, she turns.

It’s one of those moments, Ryder can tell right away, that he’ll remember as long as he lives, so he focuses. Time nearly stops. Mortality is a constant and has always been a constant in Ryder’s young life. Less so lately, but he tries to memorize Yelena standing there amidst the people she spent her life safeguarding, surrounded by new life like Varva and spring. Her silver hair falls gracefully over her back. She faces them, but stands perpendicular, having just been speaking with others. Her posture would give that old Mattias fellow some competition, her hands held behind her back, just like he used to do. Ryder knows one day he will teach his people this _joik_ , for Yelena, the leader of the People of the Sun during their days in the Forest That Fell. Even thumbs his sacred drum, attached to his reindeer's pack.

In an instant, it’s over. 

Yelena grins, scoffs. “Go on, you two.”

Honeymaren yips and Ryder leaps atop his reindeer. They take off running. Laughing the whole way, the pair follow the river toward the sea. Ryder picks up the lead, not that Honeymaren minds. She’s so jovial, he half-expects her to jump into a tree and start that wild running-on-branches thing she does. The trees thin more though, until they chase across plain tundra.

“There it is!” Ryder points. As the pair near the village, he spies figures—other, real Northuldrian people!—jogging out to meet them. “That’s Duvre and Dure!”

“Who?” Honeymaren yells.

“The guys we met!”

They both pull up, their reindeer sliding to a stop. Ryder dismounts quickly, running the last of the distance. The sweet old man who traveled so far that day with the sweetgrass—Dure—and his fetching son, Duvre, jog toward him. Together, they laugh, Ryder sweeping them up in a hug. He remembers something Yelena said: _They never gave up on us!_

**—Honeymaren—**

Now that she’s closer, Honeymaren recognizes the two men from atop her reindeer. Her brother can’t seem to let either of them go for long, and it’s absolutely adorable. She’s a little winded herself, so she leisurely reaches for her brother’s ride, gently guiding the reindeer toward Ryder by the antler. Beyond the three men immediately in front of her, she can see others headed their way from the coastal village.

_I’m going to meet other Northuldra_ , she wonders. Arriving beside him, Ryder smiles brightly up at her.

“This is my sister!” he tells them.

“Hello!” the elder says, then recognizes her. He places his hand on his opposite shoulder, saying, “I’m Dure.”

Remembering the gesture, Honeymaren nods, leans down to put her hand on his shoulder since he couldn’t reach hers. “I’m Honeymaren.”

The younger, taller man with hazel eyes also introduces himself. “I’m Duvre, son of Dure. Welcome!” His accent is still a little difficult for her, but she’s getting the hang of it.

“Our leaders will be here soon,” Dure assures them, slowly looking over his shoulder.

“I’m sure, us too!” Ryder exclaims. He’s blushing, trying to find something to do with his hands. “They can’t be too far behind us, less than a mile. Even Yelena!” He glances behind the men, then double-takes, squints. “Mare,” he says, his voice dropping. “Mare, is that…?” Honeymaren follows his gaze.

Her chest clenches. She gasps, shouts, _“Elsa!”_

In a flash, Honeymaren’s reindeer gallops anew, leaving a hooting Ryder and his friends behind. She leans forward, ready to jump, the thrum of her reindeer’s hooves reverberating where her knees hold her steady on his back. The closer she gets, the surer. Maybe she imagines it, but Honeymaren thinks she even hears Elsa’s voice calling her name in recognition. In any case, she’s racing forward as well. Villagers—strangers—jump out of Honeymaren’s way, laughing and shouting joyfully at the sight of her.

Honeymaren swings her leg, dismounting her reindeer at a run, and now she laughs, too. Elsa runs at her, exuberant, like nothing she’s ever seen before. The last step Elsa leaps; Honeymaren’s arms stretch out for her. They collide, spinning from the impact, Honeymaren throwing her head back, cackling like a kid. As they regain balance, Honeymaren hugs Elsa so tight she lifts her off the ground, earning a yelp and a lingering, musical laugh. She returns Elsa to her feet and they slow.

She leans back just enough to really look at Elsa giggling, holding her ribs tenderly as Elsa’s arms lay lazily on her shoulders. Honeymaren can’t pick which dazzling blue eye to look at while she asks, “What are you doing here?”

The quickest little creased brow crosses Elsa’s face, still smiling. “Meeting you here.”

“What?”

Elsa shrugs. As if it’s obvious. “I knew there were plans to come here, so when my—hmm—project took longer than I expected, I simply came here myself and… waited for you.” Again, she shrugs. Like it’s _obvious!_

“You…” Honeymaren begins, shaking her head. “You were waiting for me. You beat us here.”

Elsa flips her hair over her shoulder, smiles playfully. “Does that mean I win? Is there a prize?”

Honeymaren’s gaze cuts to Elsa’s lips. Looking up again, she licks her own, quirks an inquisitive eyebrow. For a second only, she’s not sure Elsa caught her message. Then Elsa lifts her own brow, smiling seductively.

_Hot!_

Humming happily, Honeymaren leans forward, kissing Elsa as long as she wants. Elsa lifts her hands to her hair right on cue. Distantly, she hears gasps and excited murmurs. When she opens her eyes, Honeymaren remembers that strangers she’s never met are all around her, and she blushes. To her surprise though, Elsa doesn’t pull away or even blush—too much. Actually, the people’s attention seems to be centered on herself. Elsa winces a little but giggles.

“Oh!” Honeymaren exclaims, “Is it doing the thing again?” She shakes her hair slightly, sparkling spots shifting with it.

“It is.”

\---

When the rest of the party from the forest arrive, Elsa introduces Yelena to the fishing village’s leader. Remarkably, she’s even shorter than Yelena is, but younger. The sight pulls on Honeymaren’s heartstrings in more ways than one. This woman leads their party toward the village, talking animatedly with Yelena and anyone nearby. Honeymaren keeps a gentle hand on her reindeer’s antler but walks alongside Elsa, holding her hand tight.

“They have a lot fewer reindeer here,” Elsa comments, pointing out a small herd in the distance. “And they don’t ride their reindeer at all!”

“How long have you been here?”

“A few days. Nokk knew the way.” Elsa’s hand tightens around Honeymaren’s. She briefly wonders if Elsa knows about her own encounter with the Nokk.

A prickle at her neck tells Honeymaren they’re being watched. Looking around, villagers (and even her own forest tribe) are certainly stealing glances at her and Elsa, but when her eyes fall upon a kid following just behind them, she recognizes the guilty gaze. He looks away quickly, sucking in his lips. “Hey,” she says, pausing with Elsa.

“H—hi!” the boy responds quietly, glancing at Honeymaren’s hand on the reindeer. He must be from this village, since Honeymaren doesn't recognize him. “Can I ask you something?”

Honeymaren shrugs and nods.

“How were you riding the reindeer? Do you do that all the time?”

Elsa chuckles. To the boy, she says, “I told you they did.”

“Would you like to try?” Honeymaren offers.

At first his face brightens, then doubt flashes in his eyes. “What if I fall?”

“It’s not that bad, falling.” Without another word, Honeymaren steps beside the reindeer and kneels down on one knee. The boy rushes up, taking her cue to step onto her knee and clamber gracelessly onto the reindeer’s back. Honeymaren catches Elsa watching, so she winks. Once the boy’s up, Honeymaren stands again, makes a couple adjustments to his position by poking at hiim. “Ready for a ride?” He nods excitedly. Honeymaren reclaims Elsa’s hand and also gently takes hold of the reindeer’s antler. Together, they jog toward the village. The little boy shrieks with delight. When they get to the first building, she stops, looking up at him. “How was that?”

“Amazing!” Then he frowns. “How do I get down?”

Elsa reaches up to him. “I’ve got you.”

He immediately accepts her arms and lets her lift him down to the ground. Honeymaren’s eyes linger on Elsa, not really hearing when the boy says his name and thanks them before running off to his parents. She only snaps out of it when she hears a familiar thumping sound. Turning, Honeymaren grabs Elsa’s hand and drags her back to their tribesmen, the reindeer trotting after them. The Northuldra of the forest start their joik—the greeting of her people, of her forest and her home. As the seaside villagers gather to listen, Honeymaren pulls Elsa close as she joins in, holding tight to her hand. Much to her surprise, Elsa sings, too.

**—Elsa—**

Elsa sighs deeply, content. Maren and she sit against a goahti near the bonfire that’s served as the gathering place for the evening’s festivities. With a pleased hum, Maren leans her head down on Elsa’s shoulder. She turns her face slightly, pressing her cheek to Maren’s forehead. Steals a glance at the stars in her hair, even lights in her bangs no larger than snowflakes. As tired as Elsa feels from the party, her heart races. Every single time Maren’s around, Elsa can feel her fear of wanting rise. Recently, however, she’s realized that her fears rarely come to fruition. Sometimes they don’t even take much of a form, remaining nameless. Little by little, she feels more in control of all her fears save one: Hurting Honeymaren again.

Ryder walks toward them, sweating. Exhaling loudly, he falls to his backside. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself,” Maren says. “That was some great dancing.”

“Yeah?” he pants, wipes his brow on his forearm. “You think so?”

Elsa nods and Maren lightly punches his shoulder. “I do.”

Grinning to himself, he looks back over his shoulder, waves at a woman across the clearing.

“She’s cute,” Maren mentions. Elsa looks back at Maren again, who leans over and touches their noses together. As if she knows that Elsa’s heart’s looking for reasons to be anxious, as if she can counter every fear Elsa might ever have. (Even the fear that Maren really can do so.)

Ryder groans. “She is!” he drawls. “And she dances so pretty! And she smells like the ocean!”

“We are by the ocean,” Elsa reminds him. Maren chuckles quietly beside her.

“She says tomorrow she can introduce me to their noaidi, and maybe I could learn from him!”

“And what about that guy, Duvre?” Maren adds.

_Oh?_ Elsa tries to hide surprise from her face.

Ryder blushes at his sister’s question. “He’s really nice, too.” When he looks up, Maren lifts her chin to point for him; Duvre catches Ryder’s eye from beside the bonfire and waves. He’d been attending to cooking fish for everyone all night. Ryder sighs loudly. “Mare, I am conflicted!”

“I can see that,” she replies, absentmindedly turning Elsa’s hand over and tracing patterns across her palm. The touch is light and warm against her sensitive skin. Tiny tendrils of sensation start crawling up the skin of her arm, followed by the thinnest trail of ice crystals. Honeymaren keeps drawing with them, and Elsa’s surprised to notice another feeling, like some of that touch could reach up to her spine and trickle down it into the base of her abdomen. Her heart’s racing changes, slows… yet thunders. If Maren knows what she is doing to her, she isn’t letting on. But Elsa has lost track of the conversation. Somewhere beneath all conscious thoughts, a vague tug pulls her attention toward the sea.

Honeymaren finds her contemplating, looking north and west. “Elsa?”

“Hm?” She turns back, finds that Ryder’s gone to Duvre’s side, holding food but lingering in conversation.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing really,” Elsa says, despite chancing a glance back in the direction she’d been looking. Maren smiles but doesn’t say anything. Elsa offers, “I didn’t know that about Ryder.”

“Know what?”

“Ah,” Elsa begins, realizing they had never really _talked_ about this. “Well that he, you know—” Maren nods encouragingly. “That he… could… could be interested, that is, he seems very taken by…” Still Honeymaren doesn’t assist, smirking at Elsa’s clumsiness. “He likes both.”

“Both what?”

She knows she’s blushing, and the fingers at her palm and wrist aren’t helping. “Women and men.”

“Mhmm,” Maren hums in agreement, nodding like she’s proud Elsa said the words on her own. “Good job.” Elsa gives her a little scowl for making her do the hard thing. _Fuck the hard thing_. Maren continues, “Yes, Ryder likes men and women.” Then she snorts, holding back laughter.

“What?”

Maren giggles through a sigh. “He had the _biggest_ crush on Kristoff.”

Elsa gasps. “No!”

“Mhmm! Oh, your face! You’re so shocked!”

“How?” she asks, recognizing that the word didn’t wholly address her surprise.

“What do you mean, ‘how?’” Maren rebuts through a grin. “I’m not interested in men, and even I recognize Kristoff is objectively attractive. If nothing else, he’s built like a mountain!” Elsa pulls her face in unintentional disgust, making Maren cackle, and she hides herself behind her hands. “You don’t see it for him?”

“I… Kristoff… I just thought… he’s really nice!” Maren nods; she looks at Elsa like she would a foolish child. “Shut up!” That just makes her cackle again. Try as she might, Elsa can’t help but pick up the contagious laughter until they're both a mess, lightly shoving each other and bonking their foreheads together.

“Don’t tell Anna,” Maren sighs at last.

“Never!” Elsa says. Then adds, “I’m glad. That Ryder ah… likes people.”

“People that aren’t taken,” Maren adds, watching her brother again.

“Yes.” Tenderness washes over Elsa, gazing softly at Maren’s face. Again, Elsa’s heart thunders. With it, waves of desire slowly wash through her. Like the steady beat of the ocean nearby, the waves assert Elsa’s feelings for Maren in a way she never expected. She has certainly appreciated Maren for what now seems like ages, but this feeling stemmed from her appreciation for Maren as a person. The fact that her lips are soft, that her arms and legs are sturdy and strong, that her chest looks like it would also be soft and… Elsa _knows_ and _has known_ that she has noticed these aspects of Maren. Before now. But something’s changed. Something instigates her somehow.

“Their goahtis are different here,” Maren observes, oblivious. A flash of fear, ridiculous though it is: Maren wouldn’t want Elsa to desire her. It passes, and Elsa does her best to let it go without blaming herself for it. When Maren notices her gaze, Elsa swivels her eyes away. “What?” Maren asks. “Do I still have your little ice lights in my hair?”

“No. I mean, yes, you do,” Elsa mumbles. As much as she wants Maren to kiss her right now, something entirely unexpected leaps out of Elsa. “Do you want to visit Athohallen?”

Honeymaren withdraws a little, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead. “Do I what?”

_Yeah, what?_ Elsa asks herself. But the words are out there, and thunder or no thunder, she’s seeing this through. _Take a deep breath._ After a moment of preparation, Elsa asks again, more resolutely, “Would you like to come with me and visit Athohallen?”

“ _The_ Athohallen?”

Elsa nods.

“From the lullaby. From the stories.”

“Yes,” Elsa breathes.

Maren blinks a few times, straining Elsa’s patience. At last, she too takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I would like that.” At long last, Maren leans up and presses her soft lips to Elsa's. Smiling at such a simple fulfillment, Elsa tenderly responds, and wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quiet before our last storm.  
> I promise it is going to be okay. (:  
> \---  
> I did my best with describing that baby board thing. It's based on a real thing, but different parts of culturally Sami people have different words cuz they have literally different languages (maybe because different white people hecked them all up over time) and using a word from outside those cultures as a name for it seemed disingenuous, and in short I love babies but words are hard. Ditto noaidi stuff with Ryder.


	23. Chapter 22—Daughter: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are doing something a little different with this update. Due to both the length and content of this overall chapter, I'm splitting it into two parts. Part 1 is here, Part 2 will be the next "chapter." Part 1 is pretty chill overall (rate GA-Teen).  
> 

**—Chapter 22—Daughter—**

**—Elsa—**

After more than a week of festivities, Elsa wakes up worn out.

Certainly, she greatly enjoyed her first several days with the seaside Northuldra. When her mother’s people arrived from the forest, Elsa relished in the festivities, excited alongside them. But she’s had a harder time getting up from her tent of ice with each day, even with the promise of a treat—Yelena shares her secret pack of coffee with her every morning, no one else. Although Elsa wants to believe she’s tired entirely because of her introversion, she recognizes a tug at her chest, pulling her home. Perhaps rather, instead of any or all of the forest’s champion spirits needing her—calling for her—she’s the one calling this time.

Today, she hopes she’ll have some relief. It’s clear that, although her kindred spirits travel all Northuldra lands, they watch these other humans with as much trepidation as the average hare.

She takes a beat, pushing these and other muddled thoughts and feelings aside, stands up. Her “blanket” of snow melts into the summer air immediately. Once she dresses herself, Elsa steps out of her little tent of ice and it evaporates as well. Most of her tribe’s party breaks down their camp, as well. A little relieved that everyone seems too busy to chat, Elsa moves quietly through the crowd.

Meandering among the seasiders’ goahtis, she reaches the shore. The waves tease away the sand and pebbles under her feet as she walks a little further, looking west. Wind teases at her hair; Elsa pretends for a moment that it’s Gale. Eventually, Elsa returns to camp. Despite her need to move on, she feels nervous about the next step.

“There you are,” Yelena says, nodding to Elsa as she passes. The elder ties a pack to her reindeer. “All packed up?”

“I travel light,” Elsa says with a shrug. She shifts into her old stoic stance—the queen stance—and she knows it, but she can’t stop herself.

“Then you can help _Honeymaren_ pack.”

“Actually,” Maren says, stepping up from behind them both, “Ryder and I are all packed up. But I guess I’ll need help carrying our stuff when we leave.” She turns directly to Elsa and says, “Good morning,” reaching for her hand. Pulling her hand back so Elsa’s only half-hugging herself, Maren gives her a soft peck on the cheek.

“Good morning.” The waves of tenderness hit Elsa again, melting her through. Others told her that the sparkling stars in Maren’s hair went away after that first night when Elsa left, but this time they’ve lingered in her hair all week.

“Are you done?” Yelena grumbles. With a grin.

“Oh, come on!” Ryder strides up behind Elsa and Maren, draping his arms over their shoulders. Elsa jumps at the sudden touch, squeezing Maren’s hand. Ryder continues, “Don’t you appreciate young love, Yelena?”

Scoffing, she replies, “I did my time ‘appreciating’ it, now I don’t have to. Are you actually packed up Ryder?” Yelena asks him, not bothering to mask the dubiousness in her voice.

Ryder leans heavily on his sister’s shoulder, challenging her balance. “Yes!” he moans loudly.

“Get off me!” Maren squawks.

He does not. “And I am broken! Hearted! Yelena!” Quieter, he breathes, “Leaving is so hard! Young love!”

“It’s been a week,” Maren croaks from under his dead weight. Elsa giggles as she strains to stay standing, Ryder leaning more and more heavily on her. “It’s not love yet!”

Elsa can’t help but chip in, adding, “You can’t be in love with a man you just met.” Ryder stands upright immediately, giving Elsa _a look_ from the corner of his eye, scrunching his chin inward. The swiftness of his motion upsets Maren’s footing, but she rights herself.

“What?” Elsa asks.

“I’m not touching that one,” he says, but his sister elbows him in the diaphragm anyway. “Augh! Mare!”

“Enough,” Yelena groans, turning enough so she can keep tying her supplies to her reindeer. “Honestly, stay on task! At least that Jaska and her fathers didn’t join the party coming here. I’ve got enough to do keeping everyone fed and safe to travel all this way with _you three’s_ antics. I don’t need any more _drama_ inserted into my days.” She glances back up at them and double-takes at Ryder. Looking him up and down, she asks, “What?”

Turning to look up at Ryder herself, Elsa’s met with a strained grin. When she turns back to Yelena, she has a sneaking suspicion that he’s motioning at their elder from behind Honeymaren and herself.

“Why would Jaska joining us cause drama?” Elsa asks Yelena. She hears more motion beside her. Remarkably, when she glances sideways at Honeymaren, she looks completely deadpan, totally calm. That said, this is the first time her hand has ever felt clammy in Elsa’s.

For all her wisdom, Yelena is _just_ as awkward as Elsa at times: This is one of those moments. “Because,” Yelena begins, her eyes tracing a triangle as they dart from Elsa to Ryder to Honeymaren to Elsa. “Jaska has been… rude to Honeymaren…”

“Rude?” Elsa asks, turning to Maren with concern. But she just stares ahead at Yelena.

Trying to salvage the situation, Yelena rambles. “Don’t worry about her exes, Elsa. Jaska’s always been a bit uh,”—more sounds of motion behind her— “she struggles with clear boundaries, and uh maturity and,”—more sounds— “ahmmmm I talked to her about leaving Honeymaren and you alone so. And there’s nothing to… worry about.”

They all freeze for a moment.

“Exes?”

“HEY LET’S GO SAY GOODBYE TO OUR NEW FRIENDS!” Ryder shouts wildly, yanking Elsa and Maren back—so fast, startled magic slips out of Elsa’s hands, shooting ice out into the air. Yelena ducks, the icy tendrils falling harmlessly to the ground as they pass overhead, but Ryder keeps pulling them away. The next thing Elsa knows, he’s pushed them into the gathering crowd of new friends saying their goodbyes. She turns, but Honeymaren’s not there, and the throng of people hugging and kissing and laughing quickly separates her from Ryder as well. Every single person wants to speak with Elsa. So she ignores her racing, startled heart. After all, she's been a queen before, and at least the Northuldra don't expect taxes and tariffs from her. In time, the shock wears off and her smiles turn genuine with each friend’s farewell.

**—Honeymaren—**

Standing at the outskirts of the gathering, Honeymaren struggles to form coherent thoughts. All week she’s been impatient for time alone with Elsa at long last, and now that the moment has arrived for their trip to Athohallen, she dreads it. She just stands there, staring blankly at the shimmering silver hair in the crowd. Honeymaren’s supposed to spend the next several days with Elsa, supposed to be parting with all the Northuldra for this trip, and all she wants to do right now is crawl to the nearest goahti and hide.

Panting, Ryder shoves and runs out of the crowd toward her. “Mare! Honeymaren! I can—Hold on—do we know—?”

“I should have told her,” Honeymaren asks, voice low and face unchanged. She feels hollow. “Shouldn’t I?”

He grimaces, “I mean…” Sighing, he shrugs. “What are you gonna do?”

“Depends.”

“Yeah, yeah okay.” He shifts on his feet, turning back to watch Elsa. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a reindeer with you? What if…” He gulps, scratches his neck. “What if you two need space? Or you wanna come back home?”

Despite her dry mouth, her trembling fingers pulling on each other, and her face feeling like a big clammy hand, Honeymaren sighs. “No. This is going to be okay. She promised not to leave me behind.”

“Okay,” Ryder resigns himself with a sigh. She can’t blame him for being unconvinced. It’s not like she is herself.

When everyone starts to separate, Elsa walks toward her and smiles demurely nonetheless. “Are you ready?”

“Oh,” Honeymaren gasps, turns to Ryder. Elsa means it, she’s not even bringing it up. And leaving means… leaving. “Give us a minute?”

Elsa nods, walks a little way off.

Honeymaren and Ryder look at each other. “I hadn’t actually thought of this part,” Ryder admits.

“Honestly? Me neither,” Honeymaren chuckles.

“Have we ever been apart like this? For this long, I mean, and-and this far?” he asks. “Like maybe I don’t remember?”

She chuckles, says, “There was a brief period when you didn’t exist and I did. But I don’t remember much of that.” He giggles at Honeymaren’s smirk, and she starts feigning punches, which he returns. Ryder wraps his arms around her, and she returns his hug.

“This is hard!” Ryder tries to laugh it off, but Honeymaren can hear the tears before she sees them.

“Yeah.” She smiles up at him, wipes tears from his cheek with the backs of her knuckles, hugs him again. Honeymaren’s always done better hiding her tears than he has, but one does squeeze out while her face is pressed against his chest. At last, they pull apart. When they do, the Northuldra from the forest that once fell surround them. Elsa steps close beside her, tucking her loose hair behind her ear. Honeymaren feels relief at the sight of her.

\---

Elsa quickly ties her hair back, starts to form an icy shape, but Honeymaren motions for her to follow instead. She does, but frost still flows at her fingertips. They run through the rain, Elsa following her downhill. Behind her, Honeymaren hears Elsa gasp when she leaps over a ledge.

“Don’t worry!” Honeymaren calls, jumping a little so that Elsa sees her face above the ledge. When Elsa rushes forward, Honeymaren points at the ledge under her feet, and Elsa realizes she’s standing above a hollow in the hillside. As Honeymaren ducks inside, Elsa follows her in.

“You know,” Elsa says, kneeling slightly, “I could have made something like this.” She smirks a little at Honeymaren as she attempts to shake rain out her dark hair. But she’s still feeling self-conscious after the morning’s revelation, feels her cheeks tint.

“I’m sure,” Honeymaren agrees, smiles self-consciously. “But this way the ground’s dry. The rain will flow downhill away from us.” She sits back heavily on the ground, emphasizing her point. Elsa joins her, and she takes the opportunity to take her pack off, including her staff and the bow that Duvre had given her for hunting during the trip to Athohallen. “Are you hungry?”

Before Elsa can shrug, Honeymaren digs into her bag. Not finding what she seeks, she turns to Elsa, biting her lip and chancing eye contact. “May I?” she asks, nodding to Elsa’s pack.

“Of course,” Elsa says, scooting out of the way. Honeymaren shuffles over on her knees, reaches in and immediately pulls out a vessel. She places it just outside their shelter to collect rain water.

While she squats and prepares space for a fire just inside the tiny cave, Honeymaren jokes anxiously, “Where’s Bruni when we really need him?”

The fire sparks to life quickly thanks to Honeymaren’s tending, but not as fast as she usually manages. Soon enough, she’ll be able to use hot coals to boil the water they collect and save it for later. For now, she pulls out one of the leaf-wrapped fish they’d pack, carefully stabs it onto a stake. Her voice is quiet and calm, Elsa coos, “Honeymaren.” Which is exactly why Honeymaren worries. She feels exposed, vulnerable. The last thing she wants to be doing right now is cooking fish. Actually, what she’s _about_ to do is the last thing she wants to be doing, and the fish runs a close second.

“Elsa, I… I know what you’re going to say.” Honeymaren starts. Actually, she doesn’t know, but she can feel it. She sighs, can’t bring herself to look too closely at Elsa, so she busies her hands around the fire, pressing her worried brow as she frets. “I should have told you sooner about Jaska.” When she does glance up at Elsa’s face, it’s inscrutable. Grimacing, she continues, “a—and about other exes.” _Please, forest spirits, just strike me down now._ “You didn’t deserve to find out about them—er, about me—like you did this morning. It wasn’t my intention to deceive you, even if I was afraid that you… that what would happen was that you might…”

She glances Elsa’s way briefly, catches her red lips silently mouth the words, “Run away.”

Honeymaren sighs again, miserable. “I’m really sorry. I can tell you anything you need to know now.” Her stomach twists and writhes, forcing anxious heat up her body. A hand gently touches her shoulder, and Honeymaren glances fearfully at it. But Elsa snickers at her. Brow furrowing, Honeymaren looks more directly at her. “What?” Elsa tries to cover her mouth with her hand. “How is this funny?”

“I already knew,” Elsa says with a shrug.

Honeymaren panics, throwing her hands up and exclaiming animatedly, “You knew?! Who told you!?”

“Jaska did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite part is imagining Elsa and Yelena sharing coffee.   
> Part 2 of Chapter 22 is next...  
> (This one's hard to edit and it's 1am, please be patient.)


	24. Chapter 22—Daughter: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So take a deep breath; I promise everything WILL be okay.
> 
> Part 2 of Daughter is more Teen to Mature because feelings.  
> This is gonna be something of a okey-angst-okey sandwich. At least compared to our recent usual.  
> Nothing graphic, just a conversation. And there's a brief description of the beginnings of a panic attack. BUT IT WILL BE OKAY!  
> If you're not sure whether to proceed or not, feel free to skip to the end notes. A quick summary is there, and hopefully can help <3
> 
> PS +++ means flashback

+++

**—Elsa—**

_Thoughts flooded Elsa’s mind. Her heart felt like it might be skipping beats. Maybe if she’d just die on the spot then she wouldn’t have to deal with having_ just kissed _Maren in full view of everybody. She couldn’t deny that_ everyone _was watching her now, and not because she was the one coming around with coffee. Even Yelena looked surprised as Elsa replaced one kettle for another to continue serving for the lesson on old rituals involving coffee and marriage proposals._

I can’t believe I just did that, _she thought._ I cannot believe I did that!

_Magic pulsed through her, demanding panic, but Elsa held it tight, wouldn’t let it any further than her first knuckles on either hand. Otherwise she might ice the coffee, and whoever heard of such a thing? If she just focused on keeping her fingertips under control, everything would be okay. Then she remembered how Maren yelped with surprise when she kissed her just a few minutes ago, and her pulse steadied. That was cute._

_Her heart still raced, but at least Elsa didn’t feel like she might die._ I’m not going to die. Everything… is okay… If anyone was going to hurt me here, they would have by now, right? _She chuckled to herself, thinking,_ I have to write to Anna, she’ll be so proud. _Returning to the circle still awaiting their coffee, Elsa smiled to herself._

_As she reached a young woman she recognized, she lifted the kettle to offer coffee. Pouring it for her, Elsa felt compelled to ask, “Remind me your name again? I’m sorry for forgetting, I’ve never been very good at remembering names.” Possibly because most of Elsa's life involved speaking with only three or four other people._

_“Jaska,” she replied, curt._

_Elsa paused briefly at the tone in her voice, moved to pour coffee for the two gentlemen on either side of Jaska. “Thank you,” she said, “for reminding me.”_

_“I’ve had_ sex _with Honeymaren.”_

_For less than a second, ice and fire flashed in Elsa’s mind, followed by a sense of disorientation similar to the moment after a sneeze. Even as she slowly leaned back, the two men beside Jaska both paled._

_“Jaska!” one of them hissed._

_The other reached a hand out to shake Elsa’s, which—still moving as though through water—she accepted. Perhaps more from muscle memory than conscious choice. “I’m sorry, Elsa,” he said. “That—that was uncalled for.”_

_Turning her head quizzically to Jaska, at last Elsa looked her up and down with a discerning eye. As calmly as she would speak to the ambassador from the Southern Isles, Elsa asked her a simple question as dismissively as possible: “Recently?”_

_The young woman’s fathers—_ wow, I am dense, _Elsa admitted to herself as she realized their relationship to each other—either rolled eyes or sucked in a smile. As for Jaska, her brow furrowed dangerously, ready to huff and puff. It was exactly the defensiveness Elsa knew all too well from childish men who became diplomats by being someone’s nephew. Without further ado, Elsa moved on, smirking to herself. Anna would_ LOVE _her next letter._

+++

**—Honeymaren—**

“That is even worse, Elsa!” Honeymaren whimpers. She receives a sympathetic smile, which pushes Honeymaren further inward. Groaning, she lets herself fall onto her back, presses her hands to her face.

“You’re embarrassed!” Elsa coos, like she’s surprised.

“Obviously I’m embarrassed!” Honeymaren moans, muffled by her hands.

A moment passes, and Elsa says, “I think the fish is done.”

Peeking through her fingers at the fish, Honeymaren shakes her head. “Another minute.” She curls her knees to her chest and rolls onto her side, away from Elsa. “I should have been the one to tell you!”

“Maren.” The hand returns to her shoulder. Honeymaren squirms inside, wants to resist the touch, but she knows if she flinches she’ll _really_ hurt Elsa. The hand lingers but eventually retreats. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The smell of the fish wafts over to Honeymaren, and she knows she has to sit up. Doing so, grimacing in pain, she grabs the fish and starts to clean it up. She starts to explain, but she still can’t look at Elsa. “I kinda… hide things inside sometimes.”

Elsa hums knowingly. Saying it out loud, Honeymaren wonders how she ever thought Elsa wouldn’t understand that. Her head slumps lower as she speaks.

“I didn’t want you to find out because I thought you’d feel threatened, or maybe hurt that I had been with other women. I told myself I was protecting you, from the past, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense when I say it out loud…” Honeymaren sighs. Looking at the finished meal, she doesn’t even want it anymore (if she ever did). Instead she sets it aside, closer to Elsa in case she’s hungrier, and pulls the pot of water towards the fire. It occurs to her to ask a question. “How come you didn’t tell me Jaska had said that to you?”

Elsa remains silent, and Honeymaren doesn’t dare look at her directly. But soft fingers touch under her chin, lifting her to face Elsa. “Because,” Elsa murmurs, “I trust you.”

Honeymaren believes her, and she believes that Elsa means to comfort her. Those words feel like a knife in her gut, though. Absolute evisceration. A lump forms in her throat, slowly climbing, pushing tears up to the corners of her eyes. Elsa notices them immediately, bites her lips in a sad little frown. She gently holds Honeymaren’s face in her hands, pushes a sweet kiss to her forehead, making Honeymaren shake. “Elsa,” she sighs.

“I’m sorry, Honeymaren.”

“What for?” she asks, afraid that Elsa might be readying to depart.

“For my part.” Elsa chews her cheek again, considering something. “I ran away when things got to be too big to handle.”

“Instead of rushing ahead like it’s no big deal?” Honeymaren asks rhetorically, laughing cruelly at herself. “No, don’t be sorry. Trust me, you didn’t make me like this. I’ve messed shit up long before we ever met.” Still, Elsa nods, watching her sympathetically. She cards fingers through Honeymaren’s hair, earning the tiniest moan as she leans her cheek against Elsa’s hand. Finally, she allows herself real eye contact with Elsa. “Come here.”

Honeymaren lays back down, pulls Elsa down next to her. They roll to face each other, and Honeymaren nuzzles her face into Elsa’s chest, listening to her heartbeat. Elsa, leaning up on her elbow, continues stroking her hair, asks at last, “How many exes do you have?”

“Three.”

Honeymaren hears Elsa’s heart jump a little. “Do I know all of them?”

_Oh, shit._ Throwing up now seems like a new, very real possibility. Honeymaren presses closer into Elsa, breathing her in. Any other time, she’d be elated to find herself here. The lump in her throat returns, and again she seeks to control it. This time, though, Honeymaren tries to not stomp on that feeling. She just needs Elsa to be able to understand her. “You know two of them.”

There’s a pause, and Honeymaren knows Elsa’s pondering that puzzle. “Who are they?”

“Jaska—”

“Who was rude.” Honeymaren groans for so long into Elsa’s collarbone that Elsa starts laughing. “That tickles, stop.”

“I _hate_ her!”

“You don’t have to hate her,” Elsa suggests, running her free hand up and down her back. “Not for my sake.”

“I don’t hate her for your sake, I hate her for mine!” Honeymaren protests, sitting up quickly so she can angrily talk with her hands. “We weren’t even a thing for that long! And she just lost all her sense when we broke up! If she ever had any! It was awful! Then recently, she got her dads scheduling us together to watch the reindeer so I couldn’t get away from her! After years of finally leaving me the fuck alone, like she should!” Heat rises to Honeymaren’s skin, burning at her neck, face, and chest. If Elsa put a kettle of coffee on her, she thinks it would boil quickly. “She’s so URGH!”

Elsa watches her carefully, hums contemplatively from the ground. “I could believe that. I get that.”

“You do?”

She nods, looks somber. “Sounds a bit like a gentleman from Anna’s past.”

“Oh, fuck no,” Honeymaren insists, pulling a face. “That guy sounded way worse. Jaska’s never tried to actually murder me or my brother. I think.” Elsa chuckles. Feeling more relaxed at the sound, Honeymaren lays back down, admiring Elsa’s blue eyes.

“Who else do I know?” she asks.

Honeymaren takes a deep breath. “You’ve met Nasti, right?”

Elsa lays her hand on Honeymaren’s bicep, squeezing a little. “Really? She was there the day you fell through the ice!”

“She was?” Honeymaren asks, blushing again. Suddenly, she feels small. “That’s really nice of her.”

“Her husband was there, too,” Elsa says quietly. She seems unsure how Honeymaren will respond, but she just hums, nods.

“I take it you don’t hate her?” Elsa grip on her arm fastens, pulling a little. Suspecting she might need reassurance, Honeymaren stretches her arm out, motioning for her to come closer. Obediently, Elsa lays on her side in the crook of the offered arm, laying her head on Honeymaren’s chest.

“No. She and I were friends when we were little. When I figured out I liked girls, we just kinda clicked.” She adds, “But we were really young.”

Elsa hums. “That’s kind of cute.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Elsa says quietly. “I didn’t have anything like that growing up.” Although she pauses, Elsa doesn’t continue. “It’s charming to think of you getting the chance to figure things out, make mistakes.” Honeymaren lets the silence sit for a while, uncertain how to address Elsa’s childhood and upbringing. Instead, she lightly passes her fingers across her shoulders, presses her lips against the crown of her head. Elsa sighs, but doesn’t seem interested in contributing more.

“How young were you?”

“Hmm, I think fourteen? It didn’t last that long really, I knew Nasti had a bigger crush on Vallju than she had on me. It was all pretty innocent.”

“So, she’s like Ryder?”

“Mhmm.”

It occurs to Honeymaren that Elsa might know what she’s doing, that she didn’t mention her own childhood for the sake of comparison, that she genuinely wants Honeymaren to feel okay right now. As vulnerable as Honeymaren feels—and still a little sick to her stomach—a strange relief needles itself into her heart. She’s still sad, still disappointed in herself, still scared, too. And yet, the little needle seems to thread a cord around her chest, tying her like a lifeline to Elsa. Unlike anything she’s expected of anyone, unlike anything she’s experienced before.

Another long pause. “How come I only know two?”

Honeymaren inhales slowly. _There it is_. She licks her lips, stilling her hand at Elsa’s back. Her pause lingers, takes one more steadying breath. “She died.”

Although she doesn’t look, she feels Elsa turn her head up from her chest towards her face, seeking her eyes. That’s something she can’t give right away; Honeymaren needs to close her eyes, take in some air. After a few minutes of deep breathing, Honeymaren says, “You can ask.”

“Who was she?”

That gets her to blink back surprise, glancing down at Elsa’s face. Genuine care lingers there, so open and empathetic that Honeymaren gulps, looking away again. She’d expected Elsa to ask how she died. “Soaba. She was Yelena’s daughter.”

_“Yelena’s daughter?!”_ Elsa gasps, sitting up, insisting on Honeymaren’s eyes now. She looks completely brokenhearted. Tears are already rising to her blue eyes, and Honeymaren wonders at a sense of gratitude that washes over her. Sitting up herself, Honeymaren accepts Elsa’s fevered embrace, doesn’t question it as rain shifts to snow outside. Perhaps sensing the intensity of her own reaction, Elsa sputters, “You don’t have to… to tell me anything you don’t want to, I’m so sorry—”

“I said you could ask,” Honeymaren mumbles against her shoulder, resigned to honesty.

“But—”

“It’s okay.” Honeymaren nuzzles against Elsa’s bare neck and shoulder, fluttering her eyes closed and breathing her in once again. After all, she’d longed for such an embrace with Elsa for such a long time. For a moment, it occurs to her that she had really feared that Elsa would be mad about all of this. All she feels right now is relief. No, relief and nausea, but that's not the important thing. Elsa’s kept her promise. _More than okay._

She hears Elsa swallow hard. “Yelena had a daughter?”

Honeymaren hums in the affirmative. “Soaba was a little older than me.” She chuckles, “She kinda looked out for me when I was really little, then told me we’d hang out again after I was done with my annoying teenager phase. Which is exactly what she did.”

“Was she pretty?” Elsa probes.

“Yes,” Honeymaren says, kissing her neck again. “And very short.” That gets a soft, cautious hum of laughter out of Elsa. “Shorter than Yelena.” The sight of Yelena with the tiny leader of the seaside Northuldra returns to her for a moment, stinging.

“What happened?”

Honeymaren drawls out a moan, sucking in her lips. _Made it this far_. “We got together when I was about eighteen, for a few years,” she begins. Elsa starts rubbing light circles across her back.

Licking her lips, tasting the salt of tears, Honeymaren continues, “She liked visiting me when Ryder and I watched the reindeer. But she got too close during rut one year. I-In the mist, surrounded by trees, the rut was really dangerous. The reindeer… It was… And she…” Honeymaren sighs, shaking her head, trying to get the memories and the nightmares out of her head. Her breath picks up pace. She can’t get enough air. Swift as lightning, Elsa leans back, looking into Honeymaren like she wills calm into her. In any case, a cold wind sweeps into their shelter. It leaves Honeymaren with room, snaps her back to the present so thoroughly that she groans from the shock of it.

Closing her eyes, she feels Elsa caress her cheek, light and slow. At long last, Honeymaren opens her sorrowful eyes and concludes, “Her… injuries…” _Deep breath, come on, just trust…_ “There was an infection.”

Elsa stays close. Tears fall silently.

Eventually, with a really tough swallow, Honeymaren adds, “After she died, Jaska just wouldn’t leave me alone for maybe a year? And I… was too messed up to make her stop.” It’s embarrassing to admit. She knows she could have left it out. Her stomach churns once more, thinking of how Jaska had treated her in the midst of her mourning, how she’d given in to it, and the fallout afterword that only came under control when Jaska’s own parents got Yelena—still mourning her _daughter_ —involved.

It might have been minutes or an hour. Honeymaren glances at Elsa, terrified of what she might see there. To her genuine surprise, Elsa’s blue eyes swim with compassion. Slowly, they lay back together, and Honeymaren presses her face to Elsa’s neck, sighing.

“How are you taking this so well?” she whispers. “I thought you’d be mad at me. Or sad or something.”

“How could I be upset with you for losing someone you loved?” Elsa whispers back. “I… we both…” She takes a deep breath herself and Honeymaren kisses across her shoulder, her throat. “I’ve lost everything before, even myself.”

Looking up, Honeymaren lifts herself above Elsa, gazes deep into her eyes, assured that neither of them is hiding anymore. She cups one of Elsa’s cheeks in her hand, rubbing her hand across ivory skin. Echoes softly, “Even myself.”

Without turning away, Elsa continues, “I’ve been betrayed.”

Honeymaren nods, already knowing.

“I made you a promise, Honeymaren. I don’t want to fly away anymore.”

Bending low, Honeymaren kisses her brow, feels a sweet cold exhale on her throat. When she rests her forehead where her lips just crowned Elsa, she breathes, “You can still call me Maren, if you want.”

Although Elsa doesn’t ask, she makes a little curious sound.

“I just—that is, Ryder calls me Maren or Mare and yeah, I still prefer most people call me the name my parents gave me. But you two are…” Elsa nods, already knowing. Honeymaren blushes through a shy grin and says it anyway. “Special.”

A ragged breath is the next thing Honeymaren hears. A vicious kiss against her throat is the next thing she feels.

Honeymaren bends into it, letting lithe fingers dig into her hair, fiercely certain that she’s in love.

\---

The fish goes cold. Snow and rain eventually pass on. The sun sets.

As their little cave grows dark save for the fire, Elsa turns from Honeymaren. “What’s that?” she asks, turning toward Honeymaren’s open pack. Honeymaren watches as Elsa reaches toward the faint blue glow coming from within. A smile crossed with teary eyes meet Honeymaren’s gaze. Elsa lifts the shirt she made for Honeymaren out of the bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for the record, when I first wrote this chapter, I did not know what Honeymaren was going to say. Seriously, the words practically wrote themselves. I went back through the whole story and edited it around this chapter. This was really tough but hopefully not as jarring as the first draft I had.  
> \---  
> Summary: 1. Flashback! Jaska told Elsa at the coffee lesson that she had sex with Honeymaren. Jaska's dads were embarrassed. Elsa was polite and cutting all at once and I love her.  
> 2\. Honeymaren has had three proper exes (including Jaska). One was a childhood friend who helped Elsa and Yelena when Honeymaren fell through the ice, Nasti (married to a man, because EVERYONE IS BI, HAHA!). The second died. Jaska was kinda sorta predatory after this ex's death. I'm hesitant to say WHO that ex was in these notes because spoilers--if you are certain at this point that you do NOT want to read the chapter, please contact me and I'll answer who it was.  
> \---  
> The coffee and marriage proposals thing is real, and complicated, and reminder that a sources chapter will be at the end of this thing


	25. Chapter 23—Reclaim: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are gonna be less okay at the end of this chapter, but still OKAY! Key word here is catharsis!  
> Warning for language, and mature themes I guess (moreso in part 2)  
> Also, warning for singing in this part 1. I hate writing singing. But it canonically exists so I'm overruled by these two.

**—Chapter 23—Reclaim—**

**—Elsa—**

The moment they step into the forest that fell, the spirits assault Elsa with welcome. Maren ducks aside as Bruni, practically exploding, leaps at her. Elsa catches him, laughing as he sizzles with every step up her palm, her arm, across her shoulders. Gale blows through her hair, lifting Elsa off her feet up into the air, floating comfortably. Below, Gale lifts Maren, too, spinning her around. Elsa smiles, at least until Gale throws two or three letters from Anna into her face. Just as she grabs them, stone rises underneath her, pushing her further up. Elsa gasps with delight. Lifting her up, the earth giant growls.

“Are you being a moose?” she asks proudly, examining the giant from atop its nose. A delighted gravelly roar meets her ears.

From far below, Maren’s voice reaches up to Elsa. “You okay up there?!”

“I’m fine!” she calls down. Elsa climbs up the giant's face, takes hold of one of the intertwined stone antlers, and the giant lowers its nose again. She lets go of the antler, sliding down to the ground.

Maren jogs toward her, startled but unafraid. “I didn’t realize we were home!”

“Really?” Looking around, Elsa recognizes the area from her first visit to the forest under the mist. But it doesn’t much look like forest, to be fair. “This is…” She was going to say where she and Anna found their parents’ ship, but that unfortunate ghost would cross their path soon enough. Instead, Elsa finishes by saying, “The north. Where you warned us earth giants roamed. Remember?”

Looking around, Maren considers the dead trees, the blue sky, the moss and flowers starting to grow under the sun's renewed strength. “We didn’t come up this way very much growing up.” Turning to Elsa, she shrugs lightly. "It wasn't safe."

Elsa nods and offers a hand, which Maren takes, smiling. She’s been different since the day in the rain. Then again, so has Elsa. It’s hard to put her finger on it, but she doesn’t shy away from touching Honeymaren, doesn’t hesitate to offer her comfort. In turn, Maren accepts more, she… it’s still hard for Elsa to name it exactly. It’s all still new to her. But knowing that Maren’s opening up to her is a huge relief. To be honest with herself, when Jaska first spoke to her, she had felt jealous of Maren, spurring her to demand her affections more publicly. Now, it just feels almost a relief to know one of them had done this sort of thing before.

“Which way should we go from here?” Maren asks, smirking at her.

“We should turn a little more westward.”

“Got it.” Maren glances at the letters in her hand, smiles. “Gale brought you letters from Anna?” Chittering around them, Gale makes a beard out of Maren’s braid. Elsa giggles.

“She says, ‘Obviously.’”

“Okay,” Maren agrees, intertwining their fingers and bringing them up, lightly kissing Elsa's wrist. “You read, I’ll lead.”

**—Honeymaren—**

The dilapidated ship is massive. Honeymaren can’t help the horror on her face. She bites her lip—the best she can manage—when she turns to Elsa beside her.

“Elsa? You okay?” _You look so sad._

“Not really.” She blinks slowly at the ship, then looks to Honeymaren out of the corner of her eye, waiting for her reaction.

Her first instinct tells her to say something, to fix it, but Honeymaren bites her tongue. Elsa doesn’t need saving. So instead, she steps closer to Elsa, holds both Elsa’s hands, presses her forehead to Elsa's, who pushes back some. A shiver flashes across Honeymaren's body. In the heat of the season, the chill feels absolutely fantastic. When she exhales, Honeymaren can see her breath. It tickles Elsa’s face, and she opens her eyes to see the vapor rise. She sees Elsa gasp.

Honeymaren smiles carefully. “Not okay is okay.” Feeling curious, she blows at Elsa’s face. The vapor’s thinner. And Elsa scrunches her face up. “Aw you’re so cute!”

“Maren!”

She laughs despite herself.

\---

“This is a _sieidi_ ,” Honeymaren whispers in awe, reaching out to the stone.

“A what now?” Elsa asks her, tying her hair back. She’s led them to the beach where she first crossed the Dark Sea. In the distance behind her, the sun sets over the wind-jostled waters, light glancing through her hair.

Honeymaren turns back to the tall rock standing on the beach, separate from the rocky cliff they had climbed down to get here. Looking up at it, she tries to explain. “It’s a sacred shape, a sacred rock? It’s like a local spirit.” Puffing air, she muses, “Ryder could explain it better. I think if we knew it was here, we would have tended to it better.”

Elsa walks closer, curious. “Tended to it?”

She drops her pack, digging through it. “Let me see what I’ve got.” Elsa’s quiet, which means she’s watching. Honeymaren feels her blush prickle at the back of her neck. It’s weird, knowing the fifth spirit is literally watching her look for gifts at a sieidi. For all she knows, it’s _Elsa’s_ sieidi somehow, some kind of marker for her to use. Then again, the Gate itself at the southern edge of the forest are seidis to the other four spirits, marked by humans. In any case, she ends up emptying most of her pack—carefully keeping the caped gákti that Elsa made for her off the ground—to finally reach a sweetgrass braid at the bottom. Turning back to Elsa, she asks, “Would you…?”

“Oh, certainly,” Elsa says, taking her pack off. Honeymaren motions for the hare that she’d trapped for them earlier, now tied to the outside of it. The squeamish face Elsa makes passing it to her is delightful. Maybe not delightful, but she winks at Elsa, silently teasing her. “What are you going to do?”

“It won’t be long, promise.” Honeymaren assures her. “Actually, think Bruni’s nearby?”

“Probably,” Elsa shrugs. Honeymaren lifts an eyebrow at her. “Oh!” Elsa exclaims, closes her eyes in concentration. Honeymaren quickly prepares the hare. After several minutes, Honeymaren catches sight of a purple flame bounding down the cliffs toward them. With Bruni’s excited help, she gets the hare properly cooked and lays it and the sweetgrass beside the sieidi. After receiving a kind pet, he scurries back to whatever trouble he needs to cause.

“There,” she says, wiping her brow as she stands. “Not much, but it’ll do.” Elsa purses her lips, looks unsure of what just happened. Repacking and picking up their packs, Honeymaren explains, “You’re supposed to take care of sieidis, give them things. Everybody needs a little affection.”

Elsa snorts quietly. “Even rocks, hm?”

"Like your moose from earlier." Elsa smiles, nods in agreement to her point. Honeymaren smirks. “So, now what?”

Turning to face the choppy, windswept ocean, Elsa murmurs, “Now we cross the Dark Sea.” Her face shows determination, which might be the opposite of what Honeymaren feels right now.

“How exactly are we going to do that?” she asks. “Don’t you think we should maybe wait until morning?”

“Not at all,” Elsa tells her easily. Too easily. But when she turns to look at Honeymaren, her smirk changes, eyes filling with kindness. She steps closer to her, watching her as she carefully wraps her arm across Honeymaren’s lower back. A breath Honeymaren didn’t know she’d been holding escapes. “Are you nervous?”

_No!_ Honeymaren wants to say. Instead she sighs, breathes, “Yes.”

“Because we’re going to Athohallen?”

“Maybe a little,” Honeymaren admits, continues, “But more because of how I think we’re going to get there.” Sure enough, a soft nicker meets their ears. Honeymaren looks up, already scowling at the Nokk standing off shore. If she’s not mistaken, he narrows his eyes at her specifically, and she returns his glare.

Looking between them, Elsa wonders, “You two really don’t like each other?”

Honeymaren hums no. Then she smirks a little. “He started it.”

“Come on,” Elsa says, applying light pressure through her arm around Honeymaren’s back. “I won’t let him hurt you.” Although she can’t help her doubts, the Nokk steps dutifully forward. In turn, she accepts Elsa’s lead. She slides her arm away, instead taking Honeymaren’s hand as she leans forward against the Nokk’s muzzle. Ice shimmers across the Nokk, and even Honeymaren goes breathless at the sight. He whinnies, throwing his head back as he canters around the beach. Elsa laughs, confesses, “I’ll never get tired of this.” With the sun setting behind Elsa, Honeymaren could not agree more.

Before returning to them, the Nokk trots over to the sieidi, noses the hare and sweet grass. Although he snorts at the offering, he seems pleased as he trots back to the two women, flicking his tail playfully. Reaching Elsa’s side, he bows. When she looks back at Honeymaren, Elsa’s hand outstretched for her, Honeymaren’s heart clenches at the sight of her open smile. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before, and Honeymaren makes a point of remembering Elsa’s smiles. Day by day, Elsa opens more and more.

A fleeting imagining of Elsa wearing that smile and nothing else comes to her.

Honeymaren takes her hand, stepping forward. With her other hand, Elsa reaches over her shoulder and takes the packs from Honeymaren. Still holding Honeymaren’s hand, she pulls her forward and places her hand on the Nokk’s withers. He snorts, shakes his mane, pulls his ears back, but otherwise remains still. She gets a nudge from Elsa: a silent instruction to climb up. “Okay okay okay,” she whispers, letting her anger at the spirit egg her on for a moment. As Honeymaren pushes up on both hands, swings her leg round, she spots Elsa laying the packs on the Nokk’s back just behind her. Elsa too climbs upon the Nokk behind Honeymaren, letting her weight anchor the packs. Sitting up, Elsa _winks_ at Honeymaren, leans forward to press a sweet, soft kiss to her cheek. That focused rage at the Nokk falls into her gut, transforming into butterflies. Next thing she knows, the Nokk stands up, and Elsa’s arms come around Honeymaren’s waist and rest on her upper thighs. Without so much as a signal between them, the Nokk surges forward at a gallop. A deep throbbing sensation at the base of Honeymaren’s hips arrives at the absolute worst time.

Then she looks down. Choppy waters reflect both the distant sunset and the first peeking stars to the east. Honeymaren yelps, digs her hands into the Nokk’s mane. Behind her, she hears Elsa hum against her ear. That’s when Honeymaren takes note of exactly where Elsa is in relation to herself, the hum sending another throb down her spine. All of Elsa’s torso presses flush to her back, her chin just above Honeymaren’s shoulder, and her cheek faintly bumping against her ear and cheekbone in rhythm with the Nokk’s canter. Elsa’s knees hold tight to the water spirit’s sides just next to Honeymaren’s backside, so close that she can feel Elsa’s thighs tighten and pull, directing the Nokk onward with her legs alone.

Heat floods Honeymaren’s skin. So hot, she sucks in cool air desperately, then bites her lip when she hears Elsa chuckle softly. She hopes it isn't because Elsa can tell what she’s doing to her. If Elsa suddenly became some kind of confident minx, Honeymaren knows she’s done for.

**—Elsa—**

More than anything, Elsa hopes this ride across the Dark Sea feels healing for Maren. As for herself, she can’t help but touch Maren, turn and press her forehead down against to back of her neck. The memory of carrying her from the freezing fjord’s waters during winter replays across her skin, and the only thing that makes it feel better is gently touching Maren now. She wants to reclaim something tender from the experience. Maren gasps, and Elsa chuckles at the sound—perhaps she’s enjoying the view. It feels so good to be close to her, resting against the back that stretches with Maren's deep breaths.

The closer they get to Athohallen, the more that Nokk stills the sea. They reach the shore just as the sunlight dips beyond the horizon, turning the sky dark indigo. Nokk shows off, trotting around the shore a bit before finally heeding Elsa’s signal for him to stop. Leaning back, Elsa says, “We’re here.”

“Holy…” Maren exhales, leaving the prayer unfinished.

They both swing off the Nokk, and Maren pulls the packs down off of him. She stands back quickly though when the water spirit turns to nuzzle Elsa, and she pets his neck in return. He leaps away, dancing around the beach once more before jumping into the sea. When she turns to Maren, though, she’s shivering. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Maren admits.

For a moment, Elsa examines herself. None of her magic seems to be active, despite energy vibrating pleasantly through her thanks to her proximity to the glacier. “Do you have anything to change into? Athohallen will be colder inside.”

“Oh, yeah!” Maren says, turns to her pack and removes the shimmering shirt Elsa gave her, sitting at the top of its contents. But she pauses, frowning slightly. “I’ll um…” she mutters, and a blush creeps across Elsa’s cheeks. Maren spins on her heel so her back faces Elsa.

As she undoes her belt, Elsa knows she’s supposed to turn around. Knows that Maren turned away _because_ _she_ _knows_ that Elsa is bashful. Knows that she has touched and kissed Maren, has even slept alongside Maren’s bare back, and _she_ has insisted on maintaining Maren’s modesty and dignity.

Right now, dignity has completely fled Elsa. _Turn around! What is wrong with you?_ she chastises herself. _You can’t gawk at her!_ Maren lifts her gákti over her head. Muscles etched across her back shiver; Elsa remains frozen to the spot, suddenly craving to see Maren shiver like that again. No—she craves _making_ Maren shiver like that again. Just as she recognizes her desire, however, Maren bends over to reach for the pearl shirt Elsa made for her, and catching a glimpse of Maren’s chest finally shocks Elsa into turning around. She yips as she does, covers her mouth, cradles her face with her fingertips in a vain attempt to shield herself from her own embarrassment.

While her mind races in a dozen directions at once, a hand curls over her shoulder. Maren’s voice behind her asks, “What do you think?”

_She doesn’t know I peeked_ , Elsa realizes, gratitude washing over her. Too soon, she realizes as she turns. Catching sight of Honeymaren, desire rolls through Elsa stronger than ever before. She had forgotten how fetching Maren looks in the shimmering gákti, the spotted reindeer pelt morphed into a cloak around her neck and shoulder, falling over her back. With Honeymaren's beautiful belt tied around it, the garment absolutely dazzles Elsa.

But all she says is, “Is it warm enough?” _Fuck me_ , she thinks, blushing at her own double-entendre. She sucks on her lip and unties her hair, trying to maintain some sense of control.

Maren nods quickly, unclasping her anxious hands from each other and pulling at the strange fabric instead. “Yes, definitely warm,” she says with a smile. “I’m a little surprised, actually, the fabric is so thin I didn’t think it would help that much.” They pause, unnamed tension building between them yet neither willing to cut it. “Should we make camp for the night?”

“Are you tired?”

“No.” Maren shakes her head.

“In that case,” Elsa breathes, “come with me, I want to show you something.” As Elsa walks by her, Maren bends to pick up their packs. “We won’t need those right now, and there’s nothing here that will bother our things.”

“Are you sure? No bears?” Maren asks, already moving on from the packs.

“Even if there were,” Elsa says, pointing up to the immense height of the glacier between two rocky peaks, “they’d have a very hard time getting down here.”

“Right.”

When they walk up toward the entrance, Elsa ushers Maren forward, interlacing their fingers and reaching her other hand over to grasp Maren’s arm. She feels Maren tense, glances over to meet her intense brown eyes, and Elsa smiles delicately as they step into the fissure in Athohallen. Honeymaren’s hair glows brighter as the glacier's darkness swallows them.

Walking through the tunnel together, Elsa whispers to Honeymaren conspiratorially, “Wait ‘til you see this.” Elsa feels a bit of a playful spirit rise in her, a spirit that reminds her of being little and playing with Anna. It’s a strange sensation, one she initially wants to rein in, but despite herself she adds, “Sing with me?”

“Sing? Sing what?” Maren asks, smiling but unsure as they enter the first room.

“You know what song,” she responds quickly, suddenly reminding herself of Anna, too. As an afterthought, she adds a quick peck to Maren’s cheek to encourage her.

Those brown eyes flutter at her touch, making Elsa's stomach lurch with want. Maren watches her for a moment, eyelids low. She licks her lips and starts them off. _“Where the north wind meets the sea, there’s a river full of memory.”_

Elsa joins then, and Maren harmonizes low. _“Sleep, my darling, safe and sound, for in this river all is found.”_

Light bursts around the room, Maren swiftly jumps into a defensive position, eyes up like she might spot a tree to climb. Elsa laughs at her reaction, charmed by Maren’s wide-eyed wonder. While she gets her bearings, Elsa keeps singing, walks comfortably toward the bright tunnel beyond. _“In her waters, deep and true lay the answers and a path for you…”_ Hands land on Elsa’s hips, pushing her forward.

_“But not too far,”_ Maren sings, _“or you’ll be drowned!”_ Just behind Elsa, Maren laughs like a euphoric child. With a push of her heel, Elsa drags Maren down the icy incline of the tunnel, letting her steady herself on Elsa. Interrupting the song, Maren says, “This is amazing!”

“Just hold on for the next part.”

“Huh? Yikes!” Maren cries out, seeing the fast approaching ledge. Her grip tightens on Elsa, wrapping both arms around her waist.

_Good_. Elsa leaps off the ledge. She knows with the extra weight she won’t make the jump to the pillars like she’s done before, so she lifts both arms midair, coaxing a bridge of ice into existence between each one. They land heavily, rolling a little, but when Elsa looks up, Maren looks fine.

Actually, she’s laughing.

“You all right?”

“Super!” Maren says with another few chortles. Standing, she points at Elsa. “That was terrifying.”

“But you’re okay?” Elsa asks again, insistent.

“I’m not dead,” Maren shrugs. She looks around the cavern more. “This really is incredible though.”

“You haven’t even seen the best part,” Elsa confides, taking the lead again.

Maren trots up ahead of her, clearly excited and looking around. “What’s the best part?”

“Come on!”

They rush down further, and although Elsa can see mist rising from Maren’s every breath, she still seems as excited to be there as possible. Tenderness fills her chest watching Maren scrunch up her cute nose, cackling in that carefree way Elsa only ever sees her do when it’s just the two of them. Reaching the enormous cavern supported by giant ice columns, Maren stops while Elsa keeps going.

“Elsa?”

“Hurry up!”

Chasing after her, Maren shouts, “Is this not the best part?!” Elsa stops abruptly before the glowing mist that she knows as the door to the innermost chamber of Athohallen—her home, her source, her center—because she needs to prepare Honeymaren. Behind her, Maren yelps, sliding across the sheer ice and bumping into Elsa's back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Maren looks to her for guidance. “Why’d you stop?”

Elsa seeks her eyes, suddenly worried that she shouldn’t have done this. She needs to trust herself. And to trust Maren, but also to… trust Maren to trust in herself.

“Honeymaren,” she starts. Hearing her full name come from Elsa’s lips must garner special attention—Elsa’s companion quickly looks very serious, the exact image of how they first met in the mist. “Athohallen is difficult to describe. I don’t know if it will react to you the way it does for me. If it does, it shows you the past, but you have to make sense of it yourself. Sometimes, it can show you painful memories. All I can say for sure, though, is Athohallen shows you what you need to learn and grow if you take the time to listen.”

As Elsa speaks, Honeymaren draws closer and closer, slowly wrapping her arms up Elsa’s back. Elsa takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to look into Maren’s eyes despite her sudden nerves. She nods.

**—Honeymaren—**

Honeymaren nods, letting Elsa go. Which turns out to be a good idea, because Elsa faces the door of mist and stomps, punching outward, creating a blast so strong that air knocks Honeymaren back. “Wow!”

Demure again despite the tremendous show of force, Elsa turns to her. “Come on in.” Just walks into the room like she didn’t right this second use some kind of power that surely would have _exhausted_ the other forest spirits, even during their old hateful rampages.

Following her into the room, it feels like walking through the night sky. While she’s admiring the beauty of it, Elsa pulls all the little stars of ice around them toward her in a rush, sweeping them up so that they part around Honeymaren’s body. “What the—?”

Another powerful blast erupts. This time, Honeymaren braces herself, senses a bright light behind her eyelids.

_Who the fuck is this person?_ The thought that maybe Elsa accidentally killed her flickers through Honeymaren's head just before she opens her eyes. And what she sees makes her wish on the spot to never blink again. Her jaw might never lift again. “Oh… my… holy…” Honeymaren slowly turns in place, surrounded by bright snowy figures that move in slow motion—many of them, perfect copies of herself—until her eyes land on Elsa. “Wow.”

“You really think so?”

She starts spinning again, watching them all. “You did this?”

Elsa hums in disagreement. “It’s not just me. Athohallen has its own magic.”

Looking over her shoulder at Elsa, Honeymaren smirks. “It’s beautiful.” Elsa’s blue eyes grow with affection. She keeps surprising Honeymaren.

“See anything familiar?”

Giggling, Honeymaren explores in earnest. Notes that Elsa keeps her distance, probably to respect her privacy or something like that. “Oh look!” she exclaims pointing. “That’s the first time I broke my arm falling out of a tree!”

“The _first_ time?” Elsa calls.

Just then, a tiny version of herself slips while climbing a branchless birch’s trunk, landing forearm first. “Oof! Not as cool and tough-looking as I remember it,” Honeymaren grimaces.

“You look like you’re six!” Elsa groans distantly.

Honeymaren snorts, “Yeah! Oh, look at that!” She darts over. “This isn’t me, this is you!” A tiny Elsa stands behind a familiar looking snowman, making a voice for it for an even tinier Anna. “That is precious.” Turning yet again, she finds more to enjoy. Although Elsa still maintains some distance, she keeps explaining the scenes.

“Wow, I completely forgot about this prank I pulled on Yelena,” she tuts, watching herself gathering antlers that had been shed.

Elsa gasps. “You pulled pranks on Yelena?”

“Mmhmm, and her daughter.”

“Don’t tell me you were one of those kids that pulled girls’ hair because you liked them.”

“Ew what? No—that’s a thing?” Honeymaren groans across the room at Elsa. “I just thought she was an uptight older kid back then. And I liked pranking people. Do people do that to people they like in Arendelle?”

An approving hum meets her ears. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t actually know from experience.”

Turning back, a new scene; Honeymaren gasps. It’s her parents. But they’re younger than she ever knew them. They look like teenagers, sitting under a tree, so much smaller than she remembers them. Her dad’s starting to cry and trying to hide it. And her mom leans over, taking his hand.

“Can… Does Athohallen show you memories that aren’t your own?”

“Yes, absolutely!” Elsa answers quickly.

She hears concern there. _Suppose I’d only ask that if it was concerning_. As her parents share their first kiss, Honeymaren lingers a moment before she moves on, smiling as she goes.

The next vision of snow is Yelena. She’s young—impossibly young, maybe Honeymaren's own age. No, younger, and she’s walking by herself. Checking behind her, the snow Yelena doesn’t see Honeymaren or anyone else, and starts hyperventilating, pulling at her hair. “I can’t do this! I can’t do this!” Honeymaren can’t resist fighting back.

“Yes, you can! You did it!” she urges quietly. Her words go unheard, of course, but it still feels good to say them. Her heart races for her mentor, her friend.

When she turns around, she’s face-to-face with a Northuldra girl with curly hair. Immediately, Honeymaren recognizes Elsa’s mother, not because she’d seen her before but because of how much she looks like the little Elsa she's just seen. As soon as Honeymaren moves to the side, the child’s running goes from slow motion to full speed, laughing outrageously with none other than Bruni hot on her tail. “Hey, come look at this one!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost my edits halfway through a final read through of this section and had to start over. >:[  
> Now I am grumpy. Fixed it as I go, part of why we're doing a two-parter again.  
> Here comes the hard part.


	26. Chapter 23—Reclaim: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: death-memories, big old spoiler-y death-memories. Message me if you need a summary!

**—Honeymaren—**

Looking over her shoulder, Honeymaren’s shocked to see herself. Not too much younger than now. A tiny young woman in her arms. Elsa—the real Elsa—approaches from the snow figures’ other side, catching her eye. As Honeymaren watches herself run, tears streaking off the figure as snowflakes, Elsa takes her hand and silently motions for her to join in following behind. Automatically, Honeymaren abides. Turning back, she and Soaba have dematerialized. Or rather, they’ve reformed at a different moment. And so has Elsa.

Two scenes, side-by-side, await their approach. Once they are near, they each begin to play out. A sweet teenager lays collapsed on the floor beside an Arendellian bed. Her hair is tied up, impossibly tight, looks painful, and yet it falls away from its ties, disheveled. She gasps for air between sobs, holding on to her mother’s shawl like a flimsy boat. Something to keep her head above water. Except the water is the snow storm buffeting her in the bedroom. Entirely alone. Distantly, Honeymaren recognizes lonely figures like this one around the periphery of the room.

Beside the scene of Elsa learning of her parents’ deaths, Honeymaren does not dare look. Not at first. Then Elsa squeezes her hand and turns to look at her. With a shaky breath, she rests her other hand on Honeymaren’s bicep, stepping closer. A real tear silently falls down Honeymaren’s cheek as she lifts her arm and wraps it around Elsa’s waist, until their sides are flush against each other. With the gift of Elsa’s strength, Honeymaren takes a deep breath and looks up.

Her figure looks even more miserable than she remembers, and she remembers looking pretty miserable the next time she dared look in her own reflection.

Yelena sits at the foot of the bed, jaw slack with exhaustion and anguished groans, gently rubbing her daughter’s leg. At that point, they had known it was too late to save Soaba. All they could do was comfort her. Or, as the case might be, she comforted them. Honeymaren’s figure cuddles close to Soaba, desperate to hold her. Through labored breaths, Soaba whispers to Honeymaren, sweet sorrowful words that Honeymaren knows she will never tell another soul. Then a grimace. Her mother grabs Soaba’s hand, desperate, “Please, please, please!” It had been so quiet up to this point, and maybe in reality it still is, but Honeymaren hears her own heart-wrenching cries ricochet through her very real body as she sees herself realize Soaba is…

Dead.

Gone.

Never even saw the sky. Would have been… thirty in autumn.

And all she can do is cling to her still-warm, lifeless body.

Just to the side, she can’t help but feel another tear fall at the sight of Elsa, completely alone in that despicable room.

Elsa’s hand presses against Honeymaren’s heart, reminding her of where and when she is. She lifts her own hand to Elsa’s, holding it tight; no more running, no more broken promises, no more giving in to fear. There could be no doubt any longer of Elsa’s dedication to her. Nor could Honeymaren doubt herself or her place in this world, beside Elsa, completely seen and accepted.

However, as Honeymaren turns to look at Elsa, her eyes land on two figures in the distance that she recognizes instantly. Her reassured smile for Elsa fades as blood rushes in her ears. She takes a beat, a breath. Walking happens; she doesn’t even notice it happening beyond the sound of her own footfalls.

There they are, her parents. Exactly as she remembered them the day they disappeared. Now that she’s close, the figures start to move at a natural pace. It’s her last memory of them, but from the outside looking in. With hushed voices, her parents hug her little self, alive with details she couldn't possibly remember from that time, carved fresh in snow.

“We’ll be back soon, darling,” her mother assures her, gently carding through her hair, mussed by sleep. “Go back to bed.”

“Just a little walk,” her father adds. “We’ll be back with some breakfast.” Honeymaren stares as he lays his hands on her little shoulders. The enormous hands she remembers still look sturdy to her now, it hadn’t just been her imagination as a small child—he was as big as Kristoff, bigger than anyone still living in the tribe today. She steps closer to the snow figures, lays her hand on top of his. Remembers how safe those hands made her feel. Those hands still dwarf her.

He stands up. Honeymaren gasps, retreating. She watches her younger self turn around, tuck herself into bed next to Ryder.

She whips her head around to watch her parents walk away. “No.”

They start to walk away, chatting quietly, and Honeymaren follows.

“Do you think this might be a bad idea?” her mother asks.

Honeymaren can’t resist the scream building in her throat. “It’s a _very_ bad idea!”

“Don’t worry,” her father replies, “We’re just going for a short walk, like we told Mare.”

Elsa’s voice calls out, but it’s muted, too far away from Honeymaren to hear.

“Where do you want to go, then?” Mama asks. She takes her husband’s hand, and Honeymaren can almost see the color of their eyes.

“Stop!” she cries. “Come back!”

“We could go north to the river?” Papa suggests.

“PLEASE!”

Mama shudders. “No. You remember hearing the Arendelle soldiers were down there? It sounded like the earth giants slaughtered them. I can’t bear going down there anytime soon.”

Elsa’s voice, closer now, echoes around her but Honeymaren ignores it. She needs to get ahead of them, needs to stop them in their tracks, must stop them.

“How about the lake then? By the dam? That’s not far.”

_The lake!_ She gasps in horror, her hand shoots up to her chest, fisting the fabric and fur there. Her own memory plays out in her mind of Ryder crossing the lake with his reindeer, even though she told him to never ever do it, no matter what. A sob breaks loose from her. Grimacing, almost angry now, she roars. “Please, _please_ no! Stop!”

Something grabs her shoulder, and Honeymaren fights it off, not even bothering to look. Whatever it is keeps grabbing, holding her back, Honeymaren keeps fighting loose, determined to save her parents. Her name is called again, but she just doesn’t care.

“The lake… okay,” Mama agrees, leaning over and kissing Papa’s shoulder like she used to do because she couldn’t reach his cheeks.

“Don’t go!” Honeymaren begs, fighting the grip around her hips, reaching for them. Papa and Mama walk through a door, down into another tunnel. Her voice roars, but no words come out. If she can just get to the door, get ahead of them—

“Honeymaren, I DIED!”

_Elsa!_

Shock rushes through Honeymaren, pulling her back. A breath she didn’t realize she was holding lets out, short, mist rising. Looking down at herself, she spots two shaky, pale hands clutching the cloth at her stomach, arms wrapped tight around her waist. When she looks back up at the tunnel, her parents are gone. Everything about her trembles.

“Elsa?”

Her body’s pressed tight against Honeymaren’s back again. She hadn’t even realized. As she returns to herself, Honeymaren tries to focus on the sensation.

“Maren!” Elsa cries. “I’m so, _so_ sorry! I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“No, don’t say that!” Honeymaren gasps, fighting back another sob. “This is… I needed to…” Her lips still tremor, so does her breath. Sighing, Honeymaren turns her face over her shoulder, finds Elsa’s there. “I… you… you _died?”_

Sucking her teeth, Elsa nods. “You can’t go down there.” Her blue eyes overflow as she presses a searing, pleading kiss to Honeymaren’s temple. “I’m sorry.”

Honeymaren melts at the touch, eyes shutting against the torrent building there. “Don’t be sorry. I…” The next two words, she holds back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOUT OUT to @Allthestoriesrtrue24601 for guessing it REALLY early on!  
> And guess what? Hard part's over c:


	27. Chapter 24—Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mature content of a sexual nature after the first --- (ends at the switch in POV)

**—Chapter 24—Ready—**

**—Elsa—**

Sunlight. Morning. Elsa lifts one eyelid slowly.

Brown eyes blink sluggishly back at her. Maren’s awake, too.

“Hey,” she mumbles. “Did you sleep?”

Maren nods slightly, sighs heavily. “Yeah… We’re still dressed.”

“Mhmm. We were very tired.” The memory of Maren sitting inside Athohallen, crying and laughing all at once, rises to Elsa’s mind. By the time Elsa had led them from the glacier, gotten their packs, and set up a place to sleep up on the island proper, Maren had looked completely drained—physically, emotionally, mentally done. “How are you feeling?”

An adorable pout replies. Maren turns her face down into Elsa’s shoulder, groaning. Her chest clenches in response. One thing she can say _she’s_ taken away from Athohallen’s depths with certainty: Honeymaren was the most adorable child. Seeing her pout now brings it back. Smiling, Elsa says, “That did not answer my question.”

Although her face remains hidden against a pale shoulder, Elsa shuts down a giggle as a single eyebrow arcs up Maren’s forehead. “I think I would have liked it better if Olaf acted my whole life story out for everyone to see.”

“Ha!” Elsa laughs, and she can picture the hilarity. “I quite disagree.”

“Are you sure?”

_“You,_ Honeymaren, would be okay with Olaf, a living snowman, to reenact your life the very first moment we met? Displaying all the worst moments of your life as quickly as possible?”

There’s a pause. Then Maren’s face rises, her eyes meeting Elsa’s and her nose smooshed against her shoulder. “I guess not.” She takes a deep breath there, seems to enjoy smelling Elsa. Turning her chin downward, however, Maren looks at herself. Still droopy but scrunching her nose up at having slept in her clothes, Maren asks, “Is there somewhere we can wash up?”

_So cute._ Elsa considers the question, smiles a little. “Yes, I think so.”

\---

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should have kept Athohallen to herself, shouldn’t let anyone come here. Maybe it was too close to her. With each step closer to the hot spring, Maren’s hand tightens around Elsa’s.

Her breath hitches as Maren’s bare back yesterday rises to her mind’s eye. Obviously, she _wants_ to look at Maren, wants to see more even, but the very sensation of wanting overwhelms her. Over the last few weeks, Elsa has worked hard at confronting her fears around affection, and things have mostly gone well. But this kind of craving _for another person—_ the kind that sends shivers through her and creates aches deep inside—and being so close to the one inspiring this new and powerful desire?

This can’t be safe.

This is madness.

Maren must sense her distress. “Hey, we can take turns if you like. I wouldn’t mind,” she tells Elsa quietly. A chaste kiss hits Elsa’s cheek, but it’s just low enough to graze her jaw and leave her aching again. The hand in Elsa’s fidgets, Maren lightly tapping her thumb against Elsa’s knuckles. “Why don’t you go first, and I’ll go for a walk? I’m sure it’s a beautiful island.” But she loosens her hand around Elsa’s.

“No, I—” Elsa starts, gasping a little for her own voice. She seeks Honeymaren’s reassuring eyes, the ones that can even locate her in a nightmare and make it bearable. Finds them searching her face now, even as she looks for more to say. Maren bites her lip in the interim. “I want…” she tries again, puffs up in frustration with herself. “Don’t go.”

“Elsa,” Maren gently asks, “are you sure?”

“Please…” Her eyes drop to their hands, fighting herself to speak. “I want you to stay.”

Elsa finally dares to look back at Honeymaren’s eyes. A whole new warmth floods her chest at the sight of the tenderness there. Maren steps in close, slowly lifts her hands to Elsa’s cheeks. Her lips press to Elsa’s cheek, her jaw, her neck; Her arms wrap around her waist as her lips linger over bare shoulders.

“I’ll get in first,” Maren says simply. She shifts, moving her hands to Elsa’s shoulders. “You can, um, look if you want to. Okay?” Maren smirks at her, but it’s different. Something deadly serious hides in her eyes. Without meaning to, Elsa resists the urge to kiss her. But Maren’s already moving away. Elsa chides herself internally for the habit of restraint.

With her back facing Elsa, Maren bends down to untie her boots. Transfixed, Elsa forces herself to look despite her own brain insisting she stop. It occurs to her that momentarily, she _will_ see Maren like this, perhaps just like this, without any clothes, and heat floods between her legs. _Oh my god!_ Elsa nearly whimpers, clutching her hand to her temple. _She hasn’t even got her shoes off yet—and I’m panicking!_

Stepping out of her boots, Maren next unties her belt and lets it fall beside her as she shimmies out of her trousers. The underside of her ass just peeks from the bottom of her silvery tunic. This time, Elsa does whimper, and immediately clamps her hands over her traitorous mouth. Maren casts a prolonged look over her shoulder at Elsa. Although she doesn’t torture Elsa with a smirk of any kind, her lips part, which tempts Elsa to move forward. Just when she’s about to pluck up the courage to do so, Honeymaren shakes out her braid, lifts her shawl and tunic up over her head.

All thought ceases in Elsa’s brain. She’s all heat and sensation. If it had been winter, she vaguely muses, she might have melted any and all snow across this entire island. Maybe even the glacier itself.

Maren steps toward the spring, testing the water with a toe before stepping in gingerly. Only the blush that’s crept across Maren’s back—her _back muscles_ —hints at her own inner state. Once she has submerged herself deep enough for the water to cover her chest, Maren finally turns back around to face Elsa, her face flushed. “The water’s _great!”_ Looking Elsa up and down, Maren tosses her a joke: “The Nokk’s not going to toss me out of here, right?”

Elsa only nods her head, one hand still over her mouth while the other hugs herself. The hot water might not be crystal clear, but it’s transparent enough that from several steps from the edge, Elsa can see more of Maren than she had dared to hope.

Her pause does not go unnoticed. “Elsa.” Maren calls, “What do you want right now, Elsa?”

Barely louder than a breath, crossing her arms over her stomach, Elsa answers, “I want to get in.” Maren nods her encouragement.

“Do what you want. It’s okay. We’re safe.”

It occurs to her that Maren wants to see her, too. That thought does make her feel a little afraid, but Elsa knows how to face fear of herself—of her own power—better than she knows how to face desire. She gulps down hard, steps toward Maren’s pile of discarded clothes. Carefully, Elsa closes her eyes and lowers her pants, only enough to get past the bend of her hips. Standing back up and opening her eyes to see Maren’s face turn hungry, Elsa rolls her shoulders until her dress falls down around her, taking everything else with it. Maren’s jaw drops slightly, watching Elsa step toward the hot spring despite her shaky breath.

The look in Maren’s eyes, that hunger, chases away Elsa’s misgivings. Her brown eyes darken, lose focus, fasten tight to her every move, rolling over her body with absolute honesty. As she finally lowers into the steaming water, Maren swims forward, but pauses just inches away. Swallowing thickly, tension palpable across her body, she nonetheless focuses intensely on Elsa’s eyes. “How do you feel?”

Elation and disbelief giggle out of Elsa. “Pretty good,” she sighs shakily, smiling. Maren still hasn’t touched her. Given the obvious lust on her face, Elsa feels impressed.

Finally, Maren looks away, snapping her gaze up at the sky. As she takes a deep, steadying breath, Elsa feels an unexpected prick of frustration. “Thank you,” Maren says, pretending to watch clouds.

“What for?”

“For,” Maren drags out, eyes darting to Elsa and back up again, “For letting me be here. With you. Not just here, right now. I mean that is—” Maren puffs air up through her bangs, eyes wide. “Here at Athohallen, too.” She chuckles a little. “Don’t tell Anna, she scares me. A little,” she corrects herself. “I can’t believe I beat her here.”

Elsa shakes her head, “Anna’s been here. Or, she’s stepped foot on the island before, not up here or in the glacier. It was an ordeal.”

“Same thing,” Maren shrugs, still fighting to not look directly at Elsa. “Just don’t let her know that I win.” Elsa giggles again, which seems to encourage Maren. “But really, thank you, Elsa,” she continues, glancing gently at Elsa’s face. “Athohallen did show me what I needed to see. I—”

She doesn’t get to finish the thought. Elsa stops her.

Closing the small distance between them, Elsa surges forward, terrifying herself and kissing Maren as deeply as she knows how. Maren gasps harshly, her mouth opening wide at the sudden contact, plants her hands on Elsa’s waist, pulling them tighter together. Elsa’s arms launch over Maren’s brawny shoulders, hands clinging tight to pull her close because _God_ close feels so much better than she ever imagined—wet skin sliding over and around her, how can a human body have so much to touch!

Close feels _so good!_ And Maren seems to agree, thrusting her chest forward; her strength forces Elsa to bend backward, arching into her. She can barely comprehend the sensation of Maren’s breasts pressed into her own, let alone how Maren’s stomach feels both buttery soft and like stacked bricks at once. The heat inside her torso spins out of control; the ache pulls on her, and Elsa lifts her legs unconsciously, wrapping them around Maren’s hips underwater.

_“Elsa!”_ Maren growls.

_That, I like that!_

Separating their lips, Maren shakes out of Elsa’s pull so she can plant them against Elsa’s jaw, her ear, her neck. It’s a pattern of trajectory Elsa likes, so she digs her hands into Maren’s hair and holds on tight. Those little lights are back in her hair, bright even in daylight. Hands move across her hip bones to under her backside. Those hands _squeeze_ her ass, making Elsa bury her face and whine against Maren’s shoulder. She feels a literal shiver run through Maren and—stranger than anything else—Elsa feels a bubble of pride.

“H—Honey—”

The growl returns. “Say that again,” Maren insists, interrupting Elsa from saying her full name.

“Honey?” Kisses return soft and plentiful to Elsa’s lips; Maren nods, humming with desire. Gentleness fills Elsa at the sound of her little whine, and she sighs into it. “Oh, Honey!” Inspired by the feelings for Maren filling her chest, Elsa leans back, just enough to bring her hands forward, starting for the swell of Maren’s breasts. Before she makes it there, Maren speaks up.

“Wait wait wait!”

“What is it? Are you okay?” Elsa asks, breathless.

“Yeah, but we’re going to drown if we keep at it.”

“What? I thought you were standing.”

“No, Elsa, I’m treading water!”

“Oh no!” Elsa gasps, reflexively clinging tightly to her. Maren’s even panting. But that devilish smile has Elsa at its mercy.

**—Honeymaren—**

“Are you ready?”

Honeymaren hears the question but doesn’t turn away from the glacier just yet. Last night, Athohallen gave her answers about her parents’ death, assured her that even great leaders can struggle with their role, and showed her that strength takes tears sometimes. She’s uncertain when she’ll return to this beach, to this glacier, to this sacred island, again. (Although, with Elsa at her side, she’s certain she will return sooner or later.) So, she sends a silent prayer of gratitude for her experience with that which is holy to her people. It’s a gift she didn’t know she needed.

Finally, she turns back, smiling at Elsa and the Nokk, already frosted, packs secured to his back. “I’m ready.”

Softly nickering, the Nokk walks up to Honeymaren. Initially, she braces for some kind of attack, but he simply considers her, ears forward, listening. Cautious, Honeymaren lifts a hand up near his nose, but not close enough to touch. After a beat of caution on his end, he closes the distance. She smiles broadly at the touch of his nose under her palm. He even feigns a nip at her hand, only to push for another pet.

Then she catches Elsa’s look. “What?”

Elsa has rarely if ever looked smug, much less as openly smug as she does right now. “Nothing.”

“What is it?” Honeymaren presses again, stepping around the water spirit toward her.

“I’m just right, that’s all.”

“Right about what?” Honeymaren asks, crossing her arms.

Stepping into Honeymaren’s space—definitely an invitation—Elsa shrugs simply. Honeymaren licks her lips, unfolds her arms and wraps them loosely around Elsa’s waist, allowing herself to look not only at her blue eyes or even just her lips, but all the way down and up again. This new freedom to gander at Elsa intoxicates her. “Tell me.”

“He does like you.”

“He _just_ _started_ liking me.”

“No, he _always_ liked you.”

Shaking her head momentarily distracts Honeymaren with her loose hair, shimmering even in the daylight. Elsa notices, too, lifts an admiring hand to stroke it. Right then and there, Honeymaren knows again—without a single doubt—that she’s completely in love with her.

Elsa climbs up onto the Nokk first, and Honeymaren vaults up behind her. She wraps her arms around Elsa’s waist and lets her chin rest on Elsa’s shoulder. “Let’s go home?”

“Actually,” Elsa teases, “I want to show you something first.” The Nokk leaps atop the ocean. They ride in silence, Honeymaren content to hold onto Elsa.

\---

They gallop up the shore of Northuldra, through the dead trees on the northern coast, Nokk and Elsa drive them forward toward the mountains. It’s a heavy uphill climb as they reach said mountain range, but the Nokk’s speed doesn’t break, already pounding the ground with enough strength to shatter any illusion that this creature simply obeyed anybody—Elsa included.

For they reach the apex of their climb with incredible speed, and Honeymaren finds herself floating in thin air over an incredible view of her homeland. With no trees blocking the view, Honeymaren realizes they’ve literally climbed a mountain, and from here she can even see the southern edge of the forest far below them, just at the horizon. Although she feels like she’s floating, the moment ends quickly as Elsa turns the Nokk slightly.

Sliding down the mountainside—stirring rocks to tumble around them—snaps Honeymaren’s attention forward again. In fact, some of the rocks and boulders seems to jump to life alongside them—small giants! Like the trolls, except they change their forms freely, some even impersonating the horse in their midst. The Nokk leaps away with unnatural confidence, Elsa pushing him on, so high into the air at times she thinks they might be flying. Honeymaren holds tighter to Elsa’s waist, whose musical laugh flows freely, reassuring the lone non-magic creature involved in this race.

The enormous leaps finally stop as they reach the headwaters of the river. Shockingly, the Nokk picks up speed. As tiny springs and creeks flow together, the spirit blasts downriver. Gale announces herself, chittering and filling Elsa’s gown. With her, the waters beneath the Nokk’s hooves surge.

_We’re going to the lake_ , Honeymaren realizes. Except it’s not the lake anymore. There is no lake. The dam is gone. Now, it’s the river.

And it’s become a _huge_ river. A strong river. A river they’re careening down at unnatural speed.

Nokk slows to a stop, suddenly standing unmoved by the churning waters below. Panting heavily, Honeymaren looks around them. Up ahead, the remnants of the dam’s towers stand, crumbling. Minutes pass as Honeymaren looks around her, taking in this familiar territory, all covered in mist as recently as a year ago.

Elsa speaks, quietly. “We’re here.”

Through her breaths, Honeymaren responds, “I… can see… that…”

A valley. A beautiful valley, actively recovering from having sat flooded for decades. Loads of long-dead trees lie fallen everywhere, but they’re covered in green moss and lively mushrooms, surround by hopeful saplings, strengthening under this new era’s first real heat. Flowers abound. Across the valley, earth giants actively agitate soil here and there. There are animals flitting about, too. Foxes, hares, wild deer, even birds. Honeymaren can spot Bruni’s purple flame up high among the plants. Under the Nokk’s feet, she can even catch glimpses of fish under the churning river’s surface.

“He’s pruning,” Elsa says about Bruni, gently taking Honeymaren’s hand.

“I’ve never heard so many birds here.” She squeezes Elsa’s hand tight. They catch each other’s eye at the same time. Honeymaren smirks, a familiar heat in her abdomen mixing with the warmth sweeping through her chest. “May I?”

Blushing, Elsa nods. Slowly, Honeymaren lifts her other hand to Elsa’s face, brushes her hair back behind her ear. Her fingers linger, grazing over her cheek, as she leans in, kissing her repeatedly, open and soft.

The Nokk takes them to the shore, and Honeymaren immediately drops off him, onto her knees. Eyes full of wonder, she sticks her hands into the soil, rich and loamy. The land of her parents, of Yelena, of her ancestors for thousands of years, is healing.

\---

When they arrive at their tribe’s summer camp, the Northuldra welcome Honeymaren and Elsa with cheers (much to the Nokk’s consternation). Honeymaren looks back over her shoulder at Elsa, expecting the grip on her waist to disappear or take a sudden chill. Kissing at the coffee lesson thing was one thing, holding hands during a raucous week-long party at the north shore is one thing. This is a lot of attention, even for her.

“You doing okay?” she asks, watching the onslaught approach.

“Mmmhmmm,” Elsa hums, rather leaning forward into her back. Honeymaren’s stomach flips, her neck prickles. At the same moment she reacts, Elsa presses a kiss to her shoulder and smells her hair, letting her pale hands press into Honeymaren’s upper thighs. “You doing okay?”

Honeymaren can’t believe it. “You—!”

“MARE!” Ryder calls.

“Whoop!” Next thing Honeymaren knows, she’s in the air, dragged off the Nokk by her brother. He pulls her into a tight hug, her toes just barely reaching the ground beneath them.

“I missed you so much! Never leave me again!”

“Ryder—” she groans. “Let me go!”

He chuckles, dropping her to her feet. Honeymaren looks back at Elsa as she gracefully dismounts the Nokk, who dashes away immediately, miffed by all the uproar. Children sneak around the adults, rushing Elsa urgently. She smiles down at them, already making ice figurines upon request and listening avidly to their stories, all of them shouting at her at once. Ryder catches the way she openly looks Elsa over—biting her lip and half-lidded eyes—inserting his face and wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Shut up,” she says, shoving his face out the way. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and starts messing up her hair, still glowing with starlight.

“That’s what you get for rejecting my brotherly love!”

Their wrestling starts a wave a laughter through the crowd. The assembly only parts when Yelena finally catches up to everyone else, a kuksa full of coffee in hand. Some folks have already grabbed the women’s packs and are carrying them onward. Others follow along, getting back to whatever tasks they had been working at. Those who remain simply watch and chat among themselves. Elsa bends down to listen to the kids continue whispering their stories, watching Yelena approach but ignoring her. Honeymaren and Ryder separate abruptly as she closes in on them.

“You didn’t die.”

Ryder seals his lips tight but still chuckles.

Honeymaren smiles up at her mentor. “I did not die.”

Yelena grabs onto Honeymaren’s shoulder, giving it a little shake. Warmth pours out of her eyes. “Good job. You did good, kid.”

Their eyes linger on each other for a moment more before they turn to look at Elsa. Honeymaren feels her chest puff up with pride, even more so when she turns to look at Yelena. She smiles, just nodding as Yelena watches Elsa. Glancing back at Honeymaren, the smile drops. But she nods once again, takes a sip of coffee. “Go get some sleep, Honeymaren. I’m sure you’re both tired from the trip.”

After watching her go, Honeymaren steals another look at Elsa—bending over, in that dress, with that blessed ass—knowing as she does that Ryder will interrupt again. And he does. “So,” he drawls, turning his sister away from Elsa and throwing an arm over her shoulder, “Are you ready to sleep in your own bed again?”

Honeymaren looks up at her brother, then back at Elsa, and smirks up at him. “Nope!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday is the last chapter  
> I'll post sources in an appendix that same day  
> And there's an epilogue in the works for Wednesday (will be posted separately)


	28. Chapter 25—Fait accompli (Rated E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit. The whole chapter's explicit. Like feelings-y explicit, but seriously. 100% smut lemon details that would make ME blush if I met YOU (a reader) in person. Because: You earned, I earned it, ELSAMAREN earned it! Writing these two stoics together has been an exercise in lesbian frustration, so now we're doing this.  
> Do I think, realistically, it might have taken more time? Sure. Are there wonderful fics out there about Elsa's work around her powers and physical intimacy? YES! Go read them. Or pretend this chapter happens a year after all previous content here if that's important to you.  
> Also, consider not reading this at all if you are not into sex or are under 18.

**—Chapter 25— _Fait accompli_ —**

**—Honeymaren—**

The sunset charges the air around them as Elsa runs ahead of Honeymaren, just out of reach. She catches up at the forest’s edge, reaches for Elsa’s hand and grabs her forearm instead. With a pull, Elsa spins round to face her, and with another tug, they’re chest to chest. Honeymaren breathes hot on Elsa’s exposed collar, making her shudder. And if she’s not mistaken, the slightest wisps of steam rise of Elsa. But her grip loosens and Elsa escapes, trots a little further ahead, turns to walk backwards toward her ice goahti. Licking her lips, she smirks, coaxes Honeymaren forward by motioning for her with a finger. When Honeymaren grins and runs at her, Elsa yelps and ducks for the door.

Too late: Honeymaren catches her round the waist from behind, wraps her strength around Elsa’s laughing waist. Leaning forward, she whispers by Elsa’s ear, “Are _you_ ready, Elsa?” Right now, she’ll take any answer—Honeymaren feels so happy in this moment and it’s more than she’s had in a long time. Though she can’t see Elsa’s face to tell, Honeymaren’s pretty sure she moans _with pleasure_. Pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss to the back of Elsa’s shoulder, she asks for more and Elsa provides, groaning as she takes another step forward so she can lean forward against the door to her home. “Tell me,” Honeymaren insists. “Tell me what you want.”

Returning her lips to Elsa’s shoulder and back, she lets her arms loosen so she can both allow escape and also graze her fingers lightly down Elsa’s stomach and up, edging dangerously close to her breasts. Her own chest heaves at the temptation, heart pounding, resists for Elsa’s sake and her own… just in case. But Honeymaren feels Elsa’s back take a shuddering breath.

“I want you,” Elsa whimpers. “I want you, Honey.”

_HONEY!_

Her vision glazes over and her brain fizzles. She gasps wide alongside Elsa as her hands delicately float up atop Elsa’s breasts at long last. Honey can just rest her chin on Elsa’s shoulder, watch Elsa’s breathing hitch because _she_ sees Honey’s hands on her chest, can feel Honey’s hands start gentle and then press closer, demanding the sheer neckline of her dress disappear completely.

Choking on the word, Elsa squeezes out a simple, “Inside!”

Resistance long gone, Honey quips, “Inside the goahti or inside you?”

The next gasp, Honey knows, is for her brazenness. She giggles to herself as Elsa—glaring back—shoves the door open, flicks ice at her face, and drags her in by her gákti. But she acts quickly, shutting the door behind them and reacquiring Elsa’s hand. Looking back, Elsa’s blue eyes are full of questions, the main one seemingly _why_ they weren’t headed immediately to her bed. Honey smiles, pulling her back into her arms for a quick embrace, soft kisses. Gently, Honey turns Elsa’s back toward the door and gently pushes her into it. If this really is Elsa’s first time—and Honeymaren’s certain that it is—she’s going to make it as sweet as she can.

While letting Elsa know that she has a lot of possibilities to explore.

Honey watches Elsa’s face, smiling, as she interlaces their fingers, slowly lifting Elsa’s hands up above her head. As she untwines their shared grasp, dragging her fingers down Elsa’s arms to her ribs and hips, she calmly tells Elsa, “I know you’re not the most talkative person, Elsa, but I need you to talk to me tonight.” Her blue eyes hang on Honey’s every word. But Honey’s paying attention: her chest rises frequently, she keeps licking her lips, her pupils growing in anticipation. She’s getting worked up. “Can you do that for me, Elsa?” Honey asks, lifting one hand up to caress Elsa’s cheekbone, biting her own lip at the sight.

“I can do that,” Elsa shudders under her, lightly dropping her hands to Honeymaren’s shoulders.

Behind her, Honey hears a flame burst to life in Elsa’s firepit, purple light filling the room. “Thanks, Bruni,” Honey hums, without missing a beat.

She leans forward, kissing Elsa fiercely. Meanwhile she toes off her boots. Her lips and jaw pull and push at Elsa’s lips, going slow but enjoying the moments when Elsa can’t quite keep up. Probably because while Honey’s cradling Elsa’s delicate jaw with one hand, she lets the other wander her ribs. And she’s pressing her hips into Elsa’s increasingly, using their slight height difference to her advantage. If she’s right, her own hipbone should hit Elsa’s hips right about—

A short, sharp gasp sucking the breath out of Honey tells her she is exactly right. Honey hums with delight. As her hips continue to press Elsa’s center, she moves her lips to the sweet corners of Elsa’s face: the corner of her lips, the corners of her eyes, the corners of her jaw. When her lips hit the corner where her neck meets her shoulders, a whine leaks out of Elsa that Honey has craved for a long, long time.

“Mind if I stay here?” Honey asks, reminding Elsa to talk.

“Please,” Elsa gasps, “do!”

Honey doesn’t have a ton of room to work with here, but she sets about sucking anyway. Not for too long—her goal is not to mark Elsa. She just wants to stay long enough to make it clear to Elsa that she’s got something special right there. Other, more discreet places, however, Honey looks forward to finding.

“Honey,” Elsa whispers. “Okay wow!”

Honeymaren giggles against her neck. “Yeah?”

Elsa’s hands finally snap out of it, and she wraps her arms around Honey’s face and force her to look up at her again. She blushes under Elsa’s tender gaze. “Mmhmm.”

“Mmm, good.” Honey turns back to her collarbone, adds huskily, “We got a long way to go yet, though, darling.” That gets a reaction she likes: Elsa’s hands alight to the nape of her neck, pushing up into Honey’s loose hair. As she nibbles, sucks, and roughly kisses across Elsa’s constantly exposed collar, Honey runs her hands back to Elsa’s chest.

“Fffffuck!” Elsa groans.

Just the feel of Elsa’s breasts underhand and the tug of fingers in her hair is doing a lot for Honeymaren, heat rising to her skin, she knows she’ll need to strip sooner than later. But she’s honestly glad Elsa isn’t overwhelming in her response yet. Honeymaren hasn’t been “in action” for years, and she knows she’s done for the minute Elsa gets more involved. Still, Honey moves from massaging to pinching through the thin cloth of Elsa’s dress, kissing down her sternum, slowly kneeling.

As for Elsa, she _looks_ like she’s doing great. The memory of her pale skin slowly revealing itself as Elsa literally sauntered out of her dress—this dress—into the hot spring flashes before Honey’s eyes. Swiftly followed by the memory of just how those pink nipples felt pressed up against her chest. Suddenly, taking her time seems a lot less attractive. “Elsa?”

“Yes?”

Tensing her body, Honeymaren freezes, asks, “You promise to stop me if you want me to stop?”

Grumpily, Elsa retorts low, “Did I fucking tell you to stop?”

_I fucking love you_ , Honey thinks, holding back a laugh.

For a painfully brief moment, promising herself she’ll return again soon, Honey leans back up and places searing kisses at the center of each of Elsa’s breasts, casts her eyes upward to her face. Elsa throws her head back against the door with a thump, whining, bending into Honey. Smirking, she drops to her knees. She realizes that she’s facing the split in Elsa’s dress, which means a bare belly is nearby.

“What are you going to do to me?” Elsa huffs, breathless.

Honeymaren smiles. Talking, that’s good. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She wraps her arms around the back of Elsa’s legs, cupping her ass in the crook of her elbows and sneaking her fingertips up above the hem of her pants. Every nerve in Honey’s body tingles with excitement. But Elsa jumps, her belly shifting, and Honey vaguely recognizes some ice is forming under her knees, spreading from Elsa’s feet. So, she presses soft kisses across Elsa’s waist, nosing her dress out of the way.

Her hands once again find Honey’s hair. Elsa says, “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, darling.” The fingers in her dark hair pull harder as her breath rasps against the barely exposed pale skin of her stomach. When she bites the hem of Elsa’s leggings, starts to pull them downward, Elsa’s fingers tighten further, pulls Honey’s head back roughly.

Suddenly catching Elsa’s eye, seeing her flushed face, Honey’s almost afraid. Mostly she feels a sudden surge of heat between her legs. Through her teeth, Elsa hisses desperately, “You are killing me!”

A smirk springs to her lips instantly. “Well, I don’t want you to die, so what are we going to do?”

Elsa’s lips quiver, she’s nearly blubbering when she moans, “Bed.” Then, a separate thought: “And get me out of these clothes.”

She shouldn’t tease, but a little wave of pleasure at the sight of Elsa in desperation throws Honey, and she feels her chest blossom. Licking her lips, she demands, “Say please.”

Frantic eyes meet hers, and the grip in her hair tightens to the edge of painful. “Please, Honey!”

“Be specific.”

“Goddammit, Maren!”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Honeymaren giggles, standing quickly and trying to repress her smile at Elsa’s duress. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell what all is happening from down there.” Although it’s a little goofy, she rests her chin on Elsa’s shoulder and starts walking them toward the bed on the other side of the goahti. By the looks of things through the ice goahti’s walls, it is decidedly nighttime now. _Oh, I_ was _taking too much time…_

“I talked though,” Elsa pouts quietly. She retracts a little, looking to Honeymaren for confirmation.

“You did! Thank you,” she affirms, smiling at how fucking adorable Elsa is while somehow also being seductive and hot. “Good job.”

“Call me darling again.”

Humming, Honeymaren squeezes her arms tight, lifts Elsa just barely off her feet so she can fall with her onto the bed. “Darling!”

They giggle in each other’s arms a moment. Elsa sits up, kneeling on the bed and flips her hair to one side of her neck. Honey’s already biting her lip, feeling heat pooling in her again. _Stay calm!_

“So,” Elsa says, her voice low, “clothes now? Please?”

Her arousal makes Honey daring. “Take mine off.” She doesn’t move when Elsa grabs a pillow and smacks it into her stomach. This is what _Honeymaren_ wants, this playful side to Elsa she gets rare glimpses of, usually from afar when Elsa thinks she’s alone.

She can still keep it sweet and give Elsa options. But if they’re going to play, then Honey’s going to play. Laughing she sits up and wrestles Elsa over and holds her down. Bowing her head slightly, she adds, “Please, darling?”

Although Elsa screws her face up at her, she smiles once she’s undoing Honey’s belt. “Fine!” Throwing the belt—the attached tools clanging against something—Honey gently takes her hands, kisses them and stills them. Then she bends low, breathing hot across Elsa’s torso, bites the hem of her leggings again and pulls down. Elsa moans, audibly shuddering. As Honeymaren discards the pants, she glances around the room and realizes that, because of the fire inside and the darkness outside, all the icy surfaces are slightly reflective. _Oh shit, I am_ _gonna die!_ she realizes, and the ache in her pants gets a little painful.

Then she looks down at Elsa in just her sheer dress and Honey _knows_ for a fact she’s going to die. Totally vulnerable, Elsa catches sight of Honey’s slackjaw blush, bites her lip. Like a seductive minx. Looking up her pale legs, timidly tight together, she catches sight of thin, almost silvery hair where those long legs meet, and gulps.

“You going to pick your jaw up off the floor or do I get to take your shirt off?”

Honeymaren snaps back to Elsa, smiles at her gall. “You brat!”

Exasperated, Elsa laughs, responding, “You tease!”

“Ha!” Honey exclaims, delighted, scooting closer and mimicking tickling her. Elsa squeals, a little snow threatening at her fingertips. “You,” Honey starts, “I fucking lov—” Honeymaren slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead. _Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…_

Elsa blinks rapidly, remains motionless except for her eyebrows, slowly lifting up her face. After a while, though, she exhales slowly, reaches for Honeymaren’s hand. “It’s okay,” she assures Honeymaren. “Y—you can say it.”

Resisting her pull, Honeymaren says quickly through her hand, “Maybe in a minute.”

To that, Elsa sticks her tongue out and blows.

Honey laughs, cackles like a kid, crawling back over Elsa. She sneers playfully up at Honey, despite slowly pulling her gákti over her head with pale, shaking hands. Still laughing, Honey watches Elsa immediately run those hands across her bare abs, up her ribs, down across her nipples, and over her arms. Elsa’s touch makes her shiver. That and hum: Honey hums weakly, appreciatively at every turn, containing herself as much as possible. And that makes Elsa’s eyes darken again.

“Having fun?”

Elsa nods, taking a few deep breaths.

Bending low, Honey sweeps an arm under Elsa’s waist. It’s a little tricky, but she manages to pull the train of the dress out from under Elsa. Carefully, she tries to lift the dress up Elsa’s body, but they both sit up to allow Honey to continue. Once it’s off, Honey casts her eyes over Elsa with a new reverence. Suddenly this doesn’t feel like a laughing matter.

Elsa pulls her to the bed beside her. Without thinking about it, they wrap each other up in their arms, and Honey presses her thigh up into Elsa’s groin. She mirrors the action, but takes the lead to kiss Honeymaren senseless. It suddenly sucks that they hadn’t gotten Honeymaren’s trousers off yet. Since there’s no way she’s letting go of Elsa to take them off, instead Honey opens her mouth and licks at Elsa’s lips. At long last, Elsa lets her in. The moan that leaves Honey’s mouth is loud enough to startle Elsa into a nervous giggle. Which makes Honey giggle, too. They start to writhe against each other, and soon enough their lips catch up to the rest of their bodies. Although Honey swiftly sweeps her tongue across Elsa’s, tickles at her lips, Elsa blows her mind by flicking her tongue across her own repeatedly. The implications immediately sink to her pelvis, making her tighten her grip on Elsa’s leg.

With a gasp, Elsa breaks the kiss, looks into at Honey’s brown eyes, and again she looks close to tears. Now or never.

Moaning a little, Honeymaren asks, “Elsa, may I…?”

“What?”

Shaking her head, she whispers, “I gotta eat you out, or I might die.”

Elsa quirks a seductive eyebrow—after she whines again. “You are _not_ allowed to die, Maren,” she whispers back, swallowing thickly.

Loosening her grip around Elsa’s body, Honey turns Elsa onto her back, starts trailing pecks down her pale flesh, following each one up with a prayerful, “Thank you.” But Elsa, it turns out, is ticklish just under her ribcage. She giggles and thrashes a little, making things playful again. Honey’s “thank yous” get louder, sillier, turning a determined grin up at Elsa each time until Elsa’s giggling so hard she might be crying. Or she could be actually crying.

Leaning back at last between Elsa’s legs, Honey sighs, basking in the sight of Elsa laid bare and waiting for her. A little sarcastically, Elsa asks, “Pleased with yourself?”

“I could not be happier.” She bends Elsa’s legs over her shoulders, and they shiver. Then Honeymaren sings, _“Dive down deep into her sound, but not too far or you’ll be drowned.”_

“That doesn’t make any—OH!” Elsa cries at the sensation. Honey sinks into her folds, groaning herself. She lays her tongue out flat, dragging it across all of Elsa: her entrance, her folds, her clit. Hands find Honey’s hair quickly, pull on her tight. It’s a sensation Honey has a feeling she’s going to enjoy a lot. Meanwhile, her own body is starting to ache with desperation.

_Focus!_ Honey reminds herself, continuing her slow, gentle strokes against Elsa’s center. Glancing up, Honey whimpers at the sight of blue eyes fixed on her, Elsa’s chest fluttering between them. She can’t resist peeking around for reflections, but Elsa catches the glance and looks around herself. In a flash, Honey pulls a hand in close, teases her middle finger at Elsa’s entrance. Repositions her tongue to focus on Elsa’s clit, but keeps things broad, drawing it out, leaves her finger in position outside of her despite Elsa’s encouraging nods, her arching back, her reaching hands desperately pulling at Honey’s shoulder, even the repeated whispers of “Please.” 

Honeymaren times it just right: Elsa catches sight of the reflections, whimpers; and at the exact moment that she turns back and fixes her eyes on Honeymaren’s brown gaze, Honey curls her finger into Elsa’s already contracting body. In that exact moment that Elsa recognizes both the reflections and what Honey’s done with her finger, she cries out, “Oh God, _Honey!”_ The cry flies out of her, and Honey holds on tight through her arching body, coaxing Elsa as far as she can go by doing exactly what she did at the second of her climax. Elsa grips her head and pushes her face tight against her. Once again, lightning seems to crackle behind Honeymaren’s eyes and through every nerve.

When she finally leans back off of Elsa, Honeymaren’s first breath comes out cold, vapor climbing into the air. She pants, drops her head against Elsa’s hips, whispers, “Thank you… Elsa… Thank you…”

“Honey,” Elsa breathes. She still clenches around Honeymaren’s finger. Patiently watching Elsa’s body buzz with the fallout, Honeymaren doesn’t remove her finger until she feels the last spasm, when Elsa will be as relaxed as possible. As she crawls back up, Elsa’s hands float on the back of Honey’s neck, at the base of her skull, thumbs rubbing at Honey’s cheekbones. Softly, she asks, “Why are your pants still on?”

Honey laughs just as softly. “Because you did not take them off.”

“You have new stars,” Elsa husks lazily.

Her eyebrows lift, confused but unafraid—Elsa doesn’t seem worried. Honeymaren looks down at herself, grins at her skin: little dark marks like snowflakes decorate her body, fading quickly as if they’re sinking into her body. “You will never stop amazing me.”

A flicker of fear crosses Elsa’s face as she says, “I don’t know how to do all of that.”

Not the pants. Not the stars. The sex. Honeymaren licks her lips. Her heart protests, raging at the hateful, hurtful world and also proudly embracing this incredible woman. _Fuck_ the magical powers—that’s just on top of everything Elsa _is_. Maybe now Honeymaren could say it… No, not yet. This moment is about Elsa, how incredible she is and how much she deserves, not Honeymaren’s feelings for her.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Thinking, Honeymaren nods for a moment while Elsa nuzzles against her.

She sits up, starting to shimmy out of her pants. Elsa puts a hand on hers, as if to help. “Darling,” Honey starts, a little unsure. “I have an idea, but let me know if it doesn’t work for you.” The fear departs, and Elsa nods excitedly, moving to sit up. “No, no,” Honey says, “You relax, stay down.” Briefly, Honeymaren looks down at herself. A soaked disaster. She feels like she might literally explode if this works.

Carefully, Honey positions herself straddling Elsa’s waist. Although her composure hangs by a shred of a thread, she waits a beat for Elsa to look. Pale, ferocious fingers drag down her thighs while determined, hazy blue eyes stare at her center. Which she did _not_ expect given Elsa's _very_ polite hands every single time they've found themselves making out before. Honey closes her eyes and groans, relishing the thin trails of chill on her fiery skin. Exhales, opens her eyes. Elsa looks terrified.

“Is this good? We _can_ not do anything more, what do you think?” Honeymaren asks, sitting lightly on Elsa’s stomach.

“Just don’t tickle me.”

“I won’t!” Honey laughs, reassured.

Elsa giggles nervously. “I just don’t want to disappoint—”

“You could never ever.” Honey bends down, kissing Elsa’s forehead. Licking her lips, she reaches down and presses on the tops of Elsa’s shoulders. Her eyes widen in recognition, watch Honey’s breathing turn strained as she rushes to scoot down the bed. As she positions her shoulders just behind Honey’s knees, her blonde hair drags behind her. It’s impossible for Honey to keep from carding through it, stroking Elsa’s cheek with each pass of her hand.

“Elsa?” She looks still terrified, along with something else.

“Yes?”

“Is this… Are you okay?”

“Yes! Are you? It’s just—” Elsa barely speaks, “—hair!”

“Is that…” Honeymaren pauses, looks at herself, wondering how Elsa hadn’t anticipated this, “…bad?”

“NO!” Elsa groans deeply, making Honey smile. Ah… the something else she spotted is arousal. Thin fingers tease delicately through dark, soft curls. “Please, I…” Elsa falters, watching her own hand. Quietly, blushing, she tells Honey, “I want this.”

A little whine escapes Honey as she lowers to Elsa’s waiting lips. Honey expected a timid tongue, something to just push her to the edge and finish her off. She was wrong.

Immediately, Elsa wraps her arms around her thighs. Although she starts with an actual kiss to Honey’s hips, she quickly reaches round Honey to expose as much of her clit as possible from her soaking folds. The next contact is direct and searing. Honeymaren moans loudly, sinks down and almost buckles over, one hand landing back in Elsa’s hair. Once she’s found a better position, Elsa moves that hand again, teasing at Honeymaren’s entrance, exactly like Honey had just done to Elsa.

She’s about to sit back up when Elsa’s other hand slides out from under her hips, up her torso to her breast. Elsa’s mouth stills, her eyes darting across Honeymaren’s face, wordlessly begging for her feedback.

Honeymaren sits up gasping, already arching, trapped at every trigger point. “Fast learner,” she chokes out. She’s seeing stars—both in the sense of her vision clouding and in that those snowflake-like freckles rise again to her arms (and presumably everywhere else). Maybe that’s what’s making Elsa so bold and brave.

But she looks down at Elsa with a hazy smile, licks her lips. With an aroused sneer that she makes sure Elsa sees, Honey rakes her core down against Elsa’s mouth. They both moan immediately, Elsa loses her grip on her breast and grabs the blankets instead. And that sneer falls off Honey right away. “I don’t believe it,” Honey mumbles through her teeth, tears threatening her vision.

Below her, Elsa’s tongue and lips start moving, and although imprecise, already Honey’s buckling again, teetering on an edge that had been waiting for years. No, forever. Her jaw drops, sucking in air. She keeps grinding down as best she can, affectionately watching Elsa’s efforts. Honey keens, dropping her head to the side.

Fighting to stay atop Elsa, catching glimpses of reflections, looking down as Elsa closes her eyes with focus, feeling her finger timidly push into her, Honeymaren falls forward to her hands. Then her elbows. Elsa cranes her neck back to maintain contact, and Honey growls at the sight of Elsa’s arching back in the reflective ice beside the bed. She feels her guts greedily pull Elsa’s finger in. Now or never.

“Elsa!” It’s too much for one breath; Honeymaren gasps loud, one tear escaping her control. “I _fucking love you!”_ Honeymaren lets out a strangled cry and starts to thrash, falling to the bed. There’s no possible way for Elsa to keep doing everything she had been, but she fights to keep her finger inside Honey, watching her climax with awe, calling her name.

Before Honeymaren’s even finished shuddering, Elsa is climbing up, wrapping her arms around her, trying to kiss her. “H-Honey! Honey? A-are you okay, Honey?”

The aftershocks start, but it takes a while to get through the main shocks first. Honeymaren’s glazed eyes eventually find Elsa’s face. She kisses Honeymaren in earnest, making her smile at the taste of herself. Makes her wonder if Elsa’s tasting _herself_ , too.

Before Elsa can feel the need to respond to Honeymaren’s last comprehensible words, she quietly tells her, “I trust you, Elsa.” There’s a pause. Maybe because Elsa’s watching her, or considering the switch in language, doesn’t matter. Honeymaren’s floating.

“I trust you too, Maren.”

She sighs, buries her face into Elsa’s shoulder, lets Elsa cradle her.

Laughing breathily, Elsa says, “That was really fun!”

Honeymaren looks at her, props herself up on her elbow. “Oh Elsa, darling,” she sighs, still panting, leaning her face against her lover’s. “We are nowhere near done yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elsa DESERVES fun, and FUN SEX, okay I'm done yelling.  
> And, as I said at the beginning, although this was a story told from both Elsa and Honeymaren's perspectives, I always meant it to lean more toward Honeymaren. Hence our ending (:
> 
> Thank you for reading Flinch, first and foremost. I will be posting an epilogue (separately) on Wednesday (same time as usual), equal parts fluff and smut because reasons (that I'll explain then). 
> 
> After writing this fanfic's first draft, I applied for a writing program, this is some of the first writing of any kind I've done in years and it really helped me through the start of quarantine/recognize some major problems with how I've been living my life. Dunno how or why random unconfirmed disney lesbians did that but here we are. 
> 
> Side note you should totally check out the next chapter, the Flinch Appendix, for links to tons of random info about Sami culture and other resources I used. I'll include a couple notes on my thinking through this fic because I  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
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> Ftr, if you think that I think that Athohallen looked like a symbol for vagina, you are right.


	29. Flinch Appendix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is no professional bibliography, just a bunch of links. Full disclosure, at one point I lost a bunch of tabs (poor computer monitor hygiene, I know) and again found what I could, so this is not exhaustive stuff.
> 
> If you want more story, I'll be posting an epilogue soon (:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything from the laits (dot) utexas (dot) edu links were EXTREMELY informative, if I had to recommend anywhere to start

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%A1mi_people>

<https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Vuelie>

<https://i.redd.it/ki9gcu2vlga41.png>

<https://folk.school/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/BurlKuksaTutorialText.pdf>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tafl_games#Tablut>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%A1mi_shamanism>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beaivi>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noaidi>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joik>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duodji>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goahti>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lavvu>

<https://www.wildsweden.com/about/11-incredible-images-of-swedens-wildlife>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neck_(water_spirit)#N%C3%A4ck,_N%C3%B8kk>

<https://www.laits.utexas.edu/sami/diehtu/siida/religion/creationmyth.htm>

<http://nordiccoffeeculture.com/the-sami-coffee-ceremony-an-interview-with-anne-wuolab/>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Sami_dishes>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reindeer_cheese>

<https://www.quora.com/What-does-the-word-Ahtohallan-mean-Is-it-a-Finnish-word>

<https://reindeerherding.org/what-is-reindeer-husbandry>

<https://www.mnn.com/earth-matters/animals/stories/how-to-survive-a-bear-attack>

<http://nordicfoodlab.org/blog/2012/9/wild-edible-plants-an-overview>

<https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv9hj9pb.32?seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents>

<https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4690224/>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%A1kti>

<https://www.timeanddate.com/sun/norway/oslo?month=12>

<https://www.laits.utexas.edu/sami/diehtu/siida/religion/bear.htm>

<https://www.laits.utexas.edu/sami/diehtu/siida/religion/bearjw.htm>

<http://www.j-sustain.com/files/pub/file/2016/Vol%204%20No%201/J-SustaiN_Vol4_No1_35-49%20SS-027-09151_Con15.pdf>

<https://www.encyclopedia.com/environment/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/sami-religion>

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGNZtintXaY>

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mUxjUZuRLA>

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlt046b8xbc>

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ol0BQgWI02g>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bear_Island_(Norway)>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saxifraga_oppositifolia>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steamship>

<https://www.laits.utexas.edu/sami/dieda/hist/sami-west.htm>

<https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Appendix:Northern_Sami_given_names>

<https://www.researchgate.net/publication/320281682_Working_Together_with_South_Saami_Birth_Stories_-_A_Collaboration_Between_a_Saami_Midwife_and_a_Saami_Researcher>

<https://reindeer.salrm.uaf.edu/sidebar/seasonal_calendar.php>

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sgc5dSOwdMc>

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-CW6gtWA7I>

[https://www.albertafarmexpress.ca/livestock/a-full-breech-birth-is-a-dangerous-situation/#:~:text=In%20the%20true%20breech%2C%20the,but%20that%20is%20a%20misnomer.&text=In%20smaller%20calves%2C%20the%20tail,visible%20outside%20the%20vulval%20lips.](https://www.albertafarmexpress.ca/livestock/a-full-breech-birth-is-a-dangerous-situation/#:~:text=In%20the%20true%20breech%2C%20the,but%20that%20is%20a%20misnomer.&text=In%20smaller%20calves%2C%20the%20tail,visible%20outside%20the%20vulval%20lips.)

<https://moocall.com/blogs/calving/how-to-safely-deliver-a-breech-birth-presentation-in-calves>

[https://books.google.com/books?id=G8B57NJYqh8C&pg=PA56&lpg=PA56&dq=%22sami%22+winter+solstice+traditions&source=bl&ots=OUMhmm7_Zd&sig=ACfU3U0OyHH5I5xdTy9Nq3zE870w-TQrUg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjW3qaTmPnpAhWYRDABHW7yBvA4ChDoATAAegQIChAB#v=onepage&q=%22sami%22%20winter%20solstice%20traditions&f=false](https://books.google.com/books?id=G8B57NJYqh8C&pg=PA56&lpg=PA56&dq=%22sami%22+winter+solstice+traditions&source=bl&ots=OUMhmm7_Zd&sig=ACfU3U0OyHH5I5xdTy9Nq3zE870w-TQrUg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjW3qaTmPnpAhWYRDABHW7yBvA4ChDoATAAegQIChAB#v=onepage&q=%22sami%22%20winter%20solstice%20traditions&f=false)

<https://folk.school/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/BurlKuksaTutorialText.pdf>

[https://books.google.com/books?id=HBnfqWtXDRwC&pg=PA90&lpg=PA90&dq=sami+child+rearing&source=bl&ots=Jnqmf-ENSY&sig=ACfU3U3fU1xxFWwnQ5Q_IIdHF4FCvVaHDA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi5vYCk4IXqAhWASjABHQrvAL4Q6AEwB3oECAoQAQ#v=onepage&q=sami%20child%20rearing&f=false](https://books.google.com/books?id=HBnfqWtXDRwC&pg=PA90&lpg=PA90&dq=sami+child+rearing&source=bl&ots=Jnqmf-ENSY&sig=ACfU3U3fU1xxFWwnQ5Q_IIdHF4FCvVaHDA&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi5vYCk4IXqAhWASjABHQrvAL4Q6AEwB3oECAoQAQ#v=onepage&q=sami%20child%20rearing&f=false)

<https://www.tota.world/article/167/>

<https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/15016281/>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%A1mi_people>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equisetum_hyemale>

<http://bloodandsawdust.com/Blood_and_Sawdust/Sand_Paper.html>

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birch_sap>

<https://www.discoverlife.org/mp/20m?kind=Equisetum+hyemale>

<https://www.thuleia.com/shamandrum.html>

<https://www.laits.utexas.edu/sami/dieda/hist/early.htm>

<https://www.laits.utexas.edu/sami/dieda/hist/sami-west.htm#conflicts>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple Flinch specific notes:
> 
> \- Reading about the Sami, I found very little literature about warfare or warrior culture, so I deliberately shied away from describing Honeymaren or anybody else in that way, despite canon. By and large, what history I read suggests that they largely wanted to be left alone by the warfaring types, especially vikings. I still enjoy warrior stuff in stories I read (and after all, the Northuldra are decidedly fiction dealing with an enchanted forest), but one of my main goals in writing this was to learn more about the Sami in general and let that be the guide
> 
> \- apparently before the 19th century, white european folks greatly abused the Sami, even as far as over-hunting a lot of wildlife, leading to reindeer husbandry. I really wanted to lean into that, plus the lack of visible wildlife in Frozen 2, all that led to this sorta environmental ending thing about reconnecting to sacred places and restoration of flora and fauna
> 
> \- contrary to that writing decision, before the 19th century, lots of missionaries hit up the Sami in that not so friendly way they did back then. Now full disclosure, I studied religions for ten years and am very into learning about that stuff, so I wanted to explore that aspect of things, too. I tried to write as though, with the falling of the mist, the Northuldra would have fallen back on traditions in the living memory of the then-elders of 30+ years ago when the mist fell, but based on what was available. Like (for example) coffee was a part of trade from pre-mist trade with our Arendellian characters' cultures trading with other places, but for real coffee showed up all over the place when I read stuff, including marriage proposals. But also coffee couldn't be traded anymore if there's a magical mist, which is a good enough reason to let Ryder have his preferred way of proposing marriage. And also this is a fanfic.
> 
> \- This is also why I tried to NOT go the homophobia route with Northuldra. By and large studies reveal that homophobia like we're used to was an export from fairly recent European history (really recently actually, there are records of early medieval europeans marrying people of the same gender, and even the Bible's Greek and Hebrew itself has some gender-bender moments, old and new testaments. Please don't ask me about it, I get asked nonstop). Since that influence would have been relatively recent for our Northuldra characters, I wrote like 30+ years was more than enough time to let go of any influence of that kind. Plus Arendelle canonically has gay characters, so... yeah. Let the sisters have Christmas, they've suffered enough as fictional characters, right? idk... plus it's fun to make them say goddammit :D
> 
> If you actually read this geek-out section or any links, I am shocked but I appreciate it.  
> If you get rude or discriminatory in the comments, it should go without saying, those comments will be deleted. Don't think that'll be an issue tbh


End file.
